


Acting (on impulse)

by Bellweather



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Acting, Aged-Up Character(s), Character Study, Domestic Disputes, Domestic Violence, Dramatic Irony, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, K2 (SouthPark), K2 Endgame, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suspense, Suspicions, Temporary Sickness, Tennessee Williams - Freeform, Unhealthy Relationships, over-exercising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 94,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellweather/pseuds/Bellweather
Summary: It was hard trying to make a career off of acting, it really was. It was harder working a second job at midnight shift just to have a stable income. It was even harder raising his little sister, Karen, on his own at the age of twenty-three.But what was hardest for Kenny McCormick was worrying about the relationship of his best friends.Stan is over-exercising and he has strange cuts on his face.Kyle's spirit is withering, and his body seems to be doing just the same.Worst of all, they were refusing to let Kenny help them. Something was obviously wrong, so why were they shutting him out?
Relationships: Ike Broflovski & Karen McCormick, Ike Broflovski & Kyle Broflovski, Karen McCormick & Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 104
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't realize until after I drafted the first portion of this story that theatres and gyms are both unsafe these days. I guess I just miss these places, so they were on my mind and I wrote about them?  
> I want to forewarn that this story exists in a COVID-free world (wouldn't that be nice?), and I do not encourage going to a gym or a theatre until the pandemic dies down! Please stay safe out there!
> 
> Also, this story has fan-art! Thanks to ailurodelrey, please support this artist!  
> https://ailurodelrey.tumblr.com/post/630716273729355779/acting-on-impulse-chapter-1-bellweather  
> https://ailurodelrey.tumblr.com/post/629533217784987648/i-just-posted-the-link-to-the-work-this-is-based
> 
> A translation to Spanish may be in the works sometime soon; stay tuned for that!

As Kenny McCormick was clearing his table, he took a moment to glance up at his reflection in the long mirror of the dressing room. He looked rough, to say the least. His face was still smudged with stage-makeup because he couldn’t afford proper remover, and the edges of his eyes were blackened by stubborn eyeliner that refused to come off. His hair was dry and in desperate need of a comb, but he didn’t let it bother him; as soon as he was out of costume, he would just cover it back up with the hood of his parka anyway.

Kenny had looked rough for the past six years.

After he took his sister and left home at seventeen, he looked like he aged ten years. And after that, when he started working multiple jobs night after night and scraping by to put food on the table, he only seemed to age more. Even now, when he and Karen were relatively stable on income and had the liberty of relaxing, Kenny looked like he was in his thirties or forties, when he was only a few months away from turning twenty-four. His features were chiseled, his blue eyes wearied, and he even had a few grey hairs. He went from being a silvery-blonde to a silver-and-blonde—something that Karen liked to tease him about.

But Kenny felt fine, he really did. He still reveled in the youthful spirit of his eight-year-old self, and that was enough to get him by. It was just that he looked a little different than he used to, that’s all.

He laughed at his reflection, not to antagonize himself, but because he thought it was actually funny.

“Kenny, my dude,” he said to his reflection, pointing a finger scoldingly, “You’re an old man.”

He was tired. He was so tired. Final dress rehearsals do that to a person. They suck out all the energy of everyone involved and then leave the exhausted corpses desperate to find a way to wake back up before the opening show the next night. It was an enigma how the cast and crew always burned midnight oil until there was nothing left, but still managed to bring out the kerosene and get another fire started afterwards time and time again.

Thank the lord Kenny was taking the day off at his second job. Now he could go home, cuddle up next to Karen, and sleep in as late as he wanted.

His phone on the dresser _buzzed,_ prying him from his thoughts.

Curious, Kenny tapped the lock screen to see that he got a text from Karen.

He felt his heart skip a beat, but not in a good way. It was way too late for Karen to be texting him. It was Friday night, around midnight, and she was supposed to be in bed back at home already.

Worry gnawing at his gut, Kenny opened up the text to read:

**Sissy:** _Ken can you come home please?_

Kenny felt his veins run cold. Scrambling to reply, he rapidly sent a text, too frantic to care about misspelling words.

**Bro:** _karenkaren are yoy ok? Talk t ome sis whats wrong???_

Her reply bubble popped up on screen, the dots moving way too slowly. Kenny felt like he was waiting for hours before the next text arrived.

**Sissy:** _Just come home quick ok?_

“Shit,” Kenny muttered under his breath. He left his costume and props scattered haphazardly over the dresser, something he knew he would be scolded for later, but it didn’t matter to him now. He put on his coat and shoes while he was running out of the dressing room, out of the theatre to reach the street outside.

The arctic-esque wind hit him like a punch to the face. Colorado mountain-town nights were dry and scratchy, and could easily freeze him to death were he not careful. With shaky hands, he took out the keys to his oversized truck and hopped inside, slamming the keys in the ignition.

“I’m overreacting, I’m overreacting, I’m overreacting,” Kenny muttered under his breath, hoping to fool himself as he started the drive home.

It was a bad habit of his. He knew this. Karen knew this. His best friends Stan and Kyle knew this.

Kenny had the bad habit of overreacting and being impulsive. It was something rooted from within him since childhood. He grew up as the trailer trash redneck who picked fights with anyone who ever looked at his friends twice.

But see, that was the problem: he was aggressive for the sake of his _friends,_ never himself. Maybe it was because he didn’t own anything valuable to his name that the people in his life became his number one priority. He would protect them with his life if the chance ever came, and on occasion, he has certainly proved just that. Just last week, a grown man tried to get Karen to buy him a pack of cigarettes and threatened her should she refuse, and Kenny gave him a black eye and a bloody nose.

It was chivalrous, yes, and it did bring some kind of value to his character, but Kenny knew deep down that his impulsiveness was a bad habit, because he knew that it scared people.

A long time ago, he promised Karen he wouldn’t raise his fists unless he thought that there was no other option. To this day, Kenny stuck to that. He wasn’t good at following rules and he could barely ever reach a goal he set for himself, but Kenny clung to this promise. It was for Karen, she deserved it.

Kenny forced himself to take a deep breath as he drove, relishing in the way it started to soothe him. He allowed his foot to ease off the gas to slow his truck down. Bundling his anxiety deep inside of him, Kenny zeroed-in his attention on the road and did his best not to think about the worry preying on his mind. He needed to get home to Karen in one piece, after all.

* * *

  
  


When Kenny unlocked the door of his house, he was met with unwelcoming silence. Not only that, but all of the lights were turned off. His home was entirely dark and void of sound. The hair on the back of his neck started to prick up as he nervously stepped inside.

“Hello?” he called into the house, “Karen?”

The lights flipped on.

_“Surprise!”_

Karen, Kyle, and Stan peeked in from around the corner, smiling and laughing at Kenny, who stood in the doorway, stunned from head to toe.

Panicked and confused, Kenny’s mind drew a blank, “Shit. Is it my birthday? Did I forget my birthday? Whose birthday is it?”

Stan, who had Kyle wrapped up in his arms, sucked his teeth, “See, I _told_ you he’d react like this.”

Karen was giggling, “It’s nobody’s birthday, Ken.”

Kenny was still caught off-guard, “Um. Did somebody die?”

“Oh my God, Kenny, you’re so daft, and I love you for it,” Kyle smirked, addressing Kenny while entwined in Stan’s arms, “We threw you an opening night party!”

“Oh,” Kenny smiled, finally feeling his nervous rush of adrenaline start to wear away, “Well shit. Thanks for nearly giving me a heart attack. Y’all tryna kill me or something?”

“I would if I could,” Kyle teased, Stan rocking him back and forth in his arms, “But thanks to Stan dragging my bony ass through twenty hours of workouts a week, I’m too sore to move a muscle.”

Stan rolled his eyes, “Oh, come on. You’re being dramatic. Twelve hours a week at best,” he cast a smirk at Kenny, “Help me. Ky’s moody.”

“This is different from any other day because?”

“Oh, shut up!”

Kenny grinned, the effects of his friends’ presence already starting to settle his nerves. Stripping his winter coat and boots, he entered the living room and threw his arms around them, “Sounds like y’all need fuckin’ drinks,” with a smirk, he added, “Or angry-sex.”

Stan and Kyle shared a look.

Stan winked.

Kyle glared, “No.”

Stan wiggled his eyebrows.

_“No.”_

Stan bit his lips suggestively.

“Oh my fucking god, Kenny, why did you put that idea in his head? Now he’s not gonna let it go ‘til we do it. Oh my God, Ken, why?” Kyle sighed tensely. He shoved Stan’s arms off of him and threw himself down on the sofa, “Yes. Drinks. Anything with alcohol.”

Kenny had to hold back laughter. He caught sight of his little sister out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she was watching him interact with his friends with a standoffish manner, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Hey sissy,” he said lightly, “If I were you, I’d wanna leave the room before it gets PG-13. I got a feeling my buddies here ain’t gonna keep their clothes on for long.”

Kyle flushed red and Stan started laughing, meanwhile Karen broke into giggles.

Kenny smiled at his sister’s reaction. It always warmed his heart to see her happy.  
From the back of his mind, he got a fun idea.

Kenny plopped himself down on the couch beside Kyle, “Sis, are you still looking for models to experiment with your makeup on?”

Karen smiled knowingly, “I already painted Kyle’s nails.”

The redhead gave an aggravated groan, splaying his painted fingernails for Kenny to see.

“You always use Kyle first,” Kenny said, “Why don’t you paint Stanny-boy’s face for once? Get him all dolled up for us.”

Karen and Stan both gawked in surprise. Karen bit her lower lip, innocent excitement kindling behind her hazel eyes, while Stan just slumped his shoulders defeatedly, muttering under his breath, “Oh no. I can’t say no to you, baby girl. Oh no. Here we go…”

Karen gave a thankful smile to her brother, before taking Stan by the arm and leading him up the stairs. Stan followed after her, pretending to be humiliated as he mouthed the words ‘help me.’ The two on the couch watched as he disappeared from their line of sight, and listened for the door of Karen’s bedroom shutting closed.

When Kenny and Kyle were alone on the worn-out old couch together, the blonde smirked, “So y’all threw me a party?”

“Karen’s idea,” Kyle said, rubbing his temples with his painted nails, “Stan and I came over, hoping to deck out with streamers and balloons and things, but Karen said you’d be more comfortable if it were more low-key. So I just cooked dinner and Stan brought over some drinks.”

“Aw,” Kenny put a hand over his heart, “Thanks, dude.”

Kyle brushed it off easily, “No big deal. You deserve it. Stan and I are both excited for opening night tomorrow. How was your final rehearsal?”

“Brutal,” Kenny tugged himself up from the couch, “I think I need a drink, too. Whatcha want? I got just about everything in the kitchen.”

“Ken, you don’t need to get up. I can get it-” Kyle assured, rising from the couch. But just as he stood up, he winced and his knees buckled forward, sending him to tumble downward.

Kenny saved him in the nick of time, bolting forward to grab him by the arms.

Worry pricking at his chest, he nervously assisted Kyle back down onto the couch, “Woah there. You okay? You just about fell.”

“Sorry,” Kyle muttered, rubbing his knees, “Stood up too suddenly, I guess. I’m really sore.”

“Jesus,” Kenny whispered, “Just how rough has Stan been fuckin' you?”

Kyle went beet-red, “Kenny!”

“What? What’d I say?”

“You know what you said!”

“Jesus. Didn’t know you were so uptight about sex.”

Kyle groaned and furrowed his brow, “Kenny! No! This has nothing to do with- I literally said it five minutes ago, Stan’s just been dragging me to the gym all the time recently.”

“I know,” Kenny said; and he did know. His second job was the midnight shift at the local twenty-four-hour gym. One of his coworkers who worked the daytime shift once told him that he saw Stan and Kyle come in almost five days a week.

With suspicious concern, he asked, “Did you hurt your knees or something?”

“No, just sore,” Kyle said, rubbing his temples, “I only workout for his sake, you know. I’m trying to be supportive of his lifestyle, but damn, it’s just tough sometimes.”

“He’s just trying to get you in shape, dude,” Kenny shrugged as lightly as he could.

He didn’t say it to be rude, and thankfully, Kyle was smart enough to know that.

See, Kyle was tiny. He looked like he weighed only one hundred pounds and was a full head shorter than both Kenny, who was average height, and Stan, who was above average. He was actually about Karen’s size, and she was barely sixteen. Not only that, but Kyle still had his childhood habit of getting sick regularly–though it’s not like that’s his fault.

Kyle still had the youthful looks of a boy of seventeen, when he just recently celebrated his twenty-second birthday. Even after the recent death of his mother, Kyle has barely aged since high school. His deep green eyes carried a newfound maturity, an aged sadness, but the rest of his features were nonetheless vernal.

Kenny wished he could say the same thing about his own looks. He really did look like he was thirty-eight years old.

But at least Kenny could say he was healthy. He wasn’t a malnourished teenager anymore; he had put on a healthy amount of weight over the years. He could doubtlessly say that he was a tall, strapping, able-bodied young man who was always up to the next task–unlike Kyle.  
Kenny had no room to complain.

The redhead gave a shrug at Kenny’s comment, knowing it was true but not going through the trouble to try to argue about it, “Yeah, I know. I appreciate his concern and all. I know he cares. It’s just tough.”

“I’m sure,” Kenny said. He got up from the couch, “How ‘bout them drinks? You can stay put and I’ll go fix ‘em.”

“Wait, I want to give you your present before I get drunk and forget about it.”

“Did I hear the word ‘present?’”

Kenny watched as Kyle unzipped his coat to take out an envelope from its interior pocket. The envelope was small and red, and it looked far too full for its small binding.

“It’s not much,” Kyle said, offering a small smile as he handed it over, “But Stan and I wanted to wish you the absolute best before opening night.”

Kenny felt butterflies stir in his stomach, tracing his finger along the edges of the envelope, “Aw, dude, seriously? Y’all are the best. Holy shit, let’s see what’s in here.”

Excitedly, he tore into the envelope as if it were a Christmas present. He found a handmade card inside, detailed with sequence, black bordering, and calligraphy. It was so pristine Kenny almost didn’t believe that it was handmade. The only reason he knew it really was was because he could see Kyle’s small signature on the back.

“Dude, am I gonna cry if I read this?” he laughed, admittedly nervous.

Kyle smirked, but he didn’t say anything.

Okay. Now Kenny was intrigued.

He opened the card, immediately stunned when two twenty-dollar bills slipped out.

That was enough of a surprise, but Kenny found himself even more appalled when he saw a photograph embroidered inside. The photograph was one he had never seen before, picturing Kyle, Stan, and himself in the courtyard of their high school. It was obviously taken in their teenage years, Kenny and Stan looked a little slimmer and they all looked a lot happier. Kenny had his arms slung around both of them, Stan red in the face and laughing while Kyle pouted at the camera. As for Kenny himself, he looked like he was on cloud nine. His smile was from ear to ear, and it was genuine. He had a band-aid taped over his nose and a gap in his teeth, but he was smiling like there was no tomorrow.

Kenny never remembered himself being so happy before.

Under the picture, two messages were written in two different sets of handwriting. The first one was printed in short, fat letters, saying:

_Ken, you are a ROCKSTAR! I would tell you to break a leg, but then, knowing you, you’d probably actually break a leg. And I don’t want to have to carry your ass to the hospital._ _  
_ _Sorry, that was harsh. You know I love you, man. Can’t wait to see you onstage again. You’re gonna kill it!_ _  
_ _-Stanny-Boy_

And just beneath it, a paragraph written in clean, long cursive letters read:

_Kenny,_ _  
_ _Your performances never cease to astound me. You persistently blow me away. You should be proud of that; I’m a tough critic. I kid. In all earnestness, though, you have found your element onstage, and you revel in it. I’m so happy for you, and I’m so eager to see you work your magic again._ _  
_ _Happy opening!_ _  
_ _Kyle_

“Aw, dude,” Kenny fanned his eyes, “I’m gonna freakin’ cry. What the fuck. Kyle, why’re you so fucking nice?”

Kyle shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but Kenny could tell from the tears in his eyes that he was just as emotional as he was.

“Drinks?” Kyle suggested helplessly, laughing as he was holding back his tears.

Kenny laughed, too, also on the verge of crying, “Drinks. All of them.”

The dinner Kyle cooked was delicious, though Kenny drowned everything he ate with a few pints of beer, so it was hard to say what he was tasting and what was guised under drinks. Kyle was asking Kenny questions about his play with keen interest, while Stan tried to redirect conversation to football and Karen was on her phone for most of the whole meal. Kenny didn’t mind one bit, he was having a great time, and he was feeling more awake than he had in a long while.

Around two in the morning, Kenny sent Karen off to bed, secretly aware that she would only pretend to be asleep and text on her phone all night long, but he let it slide. It was now Saturday after all, and his sister ought to do as she pleased.

When Kyle excused himself from the table to go to the bathroom, Kenny made sure to thank Stan for the card.

For a second, Stan looked confused. He stared perplexedly, drawn to a blank.  
Then he remembered, smacking his forehead and laughing, “Oh yeah! The card! Yeah, of course, you’re welcome. It was Kyle’s idea.”

“I figured. He’s socially aware like that,” Kenny took a sip from his beer, “Next time, tell him not to put money in it, though. I mean, I ‘ppreciate it, really, thanks. But I know y’all need some for yourselves too, y’know?”

For the second time, Stan stared confusedly. But this time, it didn’t quickly fade.

He tilted his head to the side, “He put money in the card?”

Kenny wondered to himself if Stan was drunk. He tried to remember how many beers Stan had had, but realized he hadn’t been paying attention. So Kenny found himself answering, “Uh, yeah? Was he not supposed to, or-? ‘cause, like, I can totally give it back if y’all-”

“-No, Kenny, keep it! Really,” Stan was smiling now, his eyes enkindled with surprised delight, “It’s just- it was _my_ idea to put money in the card, but I didn’t think Kyle would. He didn’t want to.”

It was Kenny’s turn to be confused, “Stan, I can-”

“-Kenny, it’s fine. Keep it. I’m glad he realized you deserve it. That’s awesome.”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

Stan’s animation faltered, his expression going a little more somber when he said, “It’s nothing. Ky and I just had a fight the other day about it. He didn’t want to spare a dime and I told him that was rude, and that you totally deserve it. You work so hard for yourself and Karen, you know, it’s the least we could do.”

“A fight?” Kenny felt his throat clench.

“No, no,” Stan corrected quickly, “Not like a ‘fight.’ Like, a small argument is all. It was nothing, really.”

“Stan, what happened, dude?” Kenny asked delicately.

As much as the idea of his two best friends fighting concerned him, Kenny had to ask. He was treading on unknown territory. He knew Stan and Kyle liked to banter with each other, but he had never once imagined them _fighting._ They were too good for that, too kind to each other. They were the picture-perfect couple, high school sweethearts. The idea of them actually staking pains against each other was something Kenny never thought he had to consider before; it worried him to say the least.

Stan forced a smile, “Nothing’s wrong, dude. It was just bad timing. See, Kyle was having one of his _days,_ you know. He was having some kind of fit.”

“Fit?”

“He was stressing himself out over money or something. He’s been doing that a lot since his mom died-” he stopped to add, “-God rest her soul- and he had to deal with her finances, and his inheritance, and all that stuff. He was just having a fussy day, he probably forgot to take his insulin that morning, and when I suggested we put money in the card, he got all upset and he threw a little fit. That’s all.”

Kenny’s eyes flickered, he was beyond bewildered, “Dude, is he okay? Are you okay? Are y’all-”

“-We’re fine, Kenny, honest,” Stan puled, pressing an arm to Kenny’s shoulder and gave an assuring squeeze, “He was just upset about something else and pretended it was about money. You know how he likes to complain. He’s fine, though, I made sure. We talked it over and we’re good. Keep the money. It’s not even that much.”

“It’s a lot for me,” Kenny muttered under his breath, the forty dollars in his back pocket weighing down his pants like a bar of gold.

“Kenny, you are too much,” Stan tossed back a swig of his drink, “You’re such a protective big brother, you know that? You know very well if anything was wrong, you’d be the first to know about it.”

Kenny finished off his beer bottle in an attempt to drown out his worries.

“I can’t help it, man,” he groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I love y’all.”

“Oh shit, you’re drunk,” Stan laughed aimlessly.

“Tipsy at best,” Kenny corrected, “I think I flirt the most when I’m sober, though, to be honest.”

“You were flirting?”

“I’m ‘bout to.”

“With me?”

“Prolly not. You ain’t my type. Your bone structure ain’t right for Karen’s makeup. You look like a drag queen.”

“Hey!”

“It’s not _necessarily_ an insult! I love drag queens!”

Kyle stumbled into the dining room, eyes wide with confusion, “Why’re we talking about drag queens…?”

“Kenny called me a drag queen!” Stan exclaimed.

The sheer intensity of confusion in Kyle’s green eyes was honestly adorable. He stared at the both of them like they had lobsters crawling out of his ears, his nose and eyebrows wrinkled in adorable perplexion, “Why…?”

“‘cause he can’t pull off Karen’s makeup like you can,” Kenny interjected, wiggling his eyebrows, “I was tellin’ him he ain’t my type. I prefer feisty redheads.”

“Hey!” Stan stood from his seat now, gathering Kyle in his arms, “Back off. This one’s mine.”

“Well, you’ll have to share ‘im. ‘cause there ain’t another one in this town.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyle narrowed his gaze at both of them, “but how drunk are the two of you?”

“Tipsy,” Kenny replied.

“I dunno,” Stan hiccuped, nuzzling his face in Kyle’s neck.

“Ew, you stink like beer,” Kyle groaned, “Shit, Stan, you were supposed to drive us home. You know I can’t drive well in the dark.”

“Spend the night,” Kenny suggested, “We got room for you.”

“Oh, Ken,” Kyle eyed him pitifully, “I wouldn’t do that to you the night before your opening show.”

“Pssh, you’re fine. We’re all family here.”

“Ken, I appreciate the hospitality, but-”

“-Kyle, honestly. It’s no trouble. Settle down and get some sleep.”

Maybe it was because he was wrapped up in his drunk boyfriend’s arms, or maybe it was because he was slightly tipsy himself, that Kyle actually decided to step down from the argument. He just nodded sleepily, his eyes downcast.

Kenny had to admit that he impressed himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he beat Kyle in an argument.

He helped the two of them create a makeshift bed on the couch, and they both fell asleep almost instantly. Then he went upstairs to check on Karen, not surprised to find her wide awake on her cell phone.

“Getting beauty sleep, are we?” he asked, smirking, as he crossed his arms.

Karen looked up from her phone, the light illuminating her innocent smile, “Just TikTok.”

Kenny pretended to cringe, “That shit melts your brain.”

“So does alcohol,” she pointed out not-too-innocently.

“You little bugger,” Kenny rolled his eyes. He pinched her toes from under the sheets, making her flinch and giggle. Then he took her phone and set it aside on the nightstand so he could tuck her into bed. Sitting down beside her, he leaned in to ask, “Didja have a good day, sis?”

“Mhm,” she nestled against her pillow, “Are you sure I can’t come to your play tomorrow?”

“Sorry, K. It’s _way_ too adult for you.”

“If you’re trying to raise me to be pure, you’re not setting a very good example, Kenny.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Karen giggled, “It’s fine. Tricia invited me to a sleepover anyway.”

“You can go. She’s one of the few friends of yours I actually like,” Kenny said, playing with her hair, “Hey, sis? Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“Why’d you make my dude Stan look like a clown?” Kenny asked, smirking at the thought of it, “Did you lose your magic touch? ‘cause I’ve seen ya work miracles with makeup before.”

Karen blushed at the praise, “Well, he was a difficult client. His jawline was too wide to contour properly.”

“Ain’t that a bird?”

“That’s _condor,”_ Karen lightly laughed, her voice like twinkling bells, “And his nose was too small. Also he had all these weird scratches on his face. I wasn’t able to cover them up without caking the foundation.”

Kenny’s breath hitched at a particular word she used, “Scratches? What kinda scratches?”

“Just, like, scratches?” Karen shrugged, “I don’t know? Kind of, like, thin, long ones that went down the sides of his face.”

“Where?”

She pointed to the sideburn area and moved her fingers down towards her chin.

“Were they bad? Like, what did they look like?”

“Just thin, light ones. I don’t know. They were little, and you can’t really see them ‘less you’re up close,” she shrugged, “They looked like razor-blade nicks to me.”

“Oh, that makes a lota sense,” Kenny chuckled, his chest flooding with immediate relief, “That clumsy oaf. Thanks for clearing that up, sissy.”

“You’re so overprotective,” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey,” he scolded lightly, “I protect things I like. Like you. So shut up and fall asleep.”

“You’re no fair,” she smiled as he kissed her forehead and pulled the covers up to her chest, “Good night, Ken.”

“G’night,” he whispered. He patted her pillow before getting up and leaving her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway, Kenny took a moment to lean up against the door and collect his thoughts. He needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow night he was supposed to give one hell of a show, and he couldn’t have any overbearing worries distracting him.


	2. Chapter 2

Opening night was phenomenal. Kenny couldn’t recall ever having an audience so receptive before. Not even the energy from the student preview could compare to the unadulterated vitality from tonight’s audience. The same way authors live off of readers, actors thrive off of crowds, and Kenny could quite literally feel the spirit of the stage around him. There was something so mystically captivating, so otherworldly, about the theatre that made Kenny devoted to performing. Acting was like a high for him; it was a healthy addiction that made him never want to get sober.

It was nights like these, enthralling, ensorcelled nights full of élan that reminded Kenny it was okay to be poor, it was okay to live off of scraps and struggle to get by, as long as he could experience _this_ a few nights a week.

At curtain call, Kenny finally had the chance to take a breath. He squinted past the stage lights into the audience, where he could see Stan and Kyle. They were dressed exceptionally well, well enough to make Kenny embarrassed by their efforts, and clapping so keenly Kenny had to imagine they were competing with each other for who could applaud the loudest.

The idea of it made him smile even wider than he already was; they were the best. They really were too good for him.

After the lights went down, Kenny retreated to his dressing room, where he threw off his costume and wrestled into his normal clothes. Rushing into the theatre lobby, he looked down at his watch. He needed to say thanks to Stan and Kyle as quickly as he could, before he had to be whisked away to his second job.

“Kenny!”

From his peripheral vision, Kenny could see Kyle and Stan running towards him from across the lobby. They looked just as flushed as he was, exasperated in their smiles.

Stan pulled him into a bear hug, “Oh my god, dude, you were _fire!”_

“Asshole, let me breathe!” Kenny exclaimed, slapping him away.

Stan shot back with a few punches, which made Kenny retaliate by slapping him until Stan pulled him into a headlock and gave him a noogie. They got a few odd looks from the showgoers as they passed them in the lobby, but they didn’t even notice. Kyle watched the whole exchange from a distance. He was smirking, but there was still a level of genuine endearment in his sad green eyes.

“Kenny, seriously, dog. You were fantastic,” Stan praised breathlessly, releasing the blonde from his hold.

“Thanks,” Kenny grinned, laboring to catch his breath.

“I don’t even know how you managed to memorize all those lines, man. Great job!”

Kenny inwardly cringed.

It went unsaid for actors that memorizing lines was not a skill, it was a basic expectation. It was the first step to conquer before any real work began, work on character development, actions, objectives, things that audience members never even recognized. They only saw the pretty sets, the dazzling costumes, and (if the actors were any good), experienced a few emotions here and there. The onlookers were essentially blind to the blood, sweat, and tears that went into every aspect of the performance, especially if they thought acting was nothing but “line-memorizing.”

But Kenny let it slide, he knew that Stan meant well. Stan was only trying to be nice, he just didn’t know any better.

Stan had tried to understand Kenny’s theatre world in the past, but it was too alien for him, and the same could be said for Kenny about Stan’s world of brawn and sports.

The three of them lived in their own private worlds, but somehow managed to still mingle together in the real one. Kenny was the artist, Stan was the athlete, and Kyle was the academic. That was how their relationship worked, and Kenny wouldn’t have it any other way.

He forced a smile, “Thanks, Stan. And thanks for coming.”

Now that Stan was letting him breathe, Kenny was able to scoop Kyle up in a hug, too. Kyle shrieked a bit when Kenny picked him up, a few theatregoers around them scoffing at the scene.

“Kenny!” Kyle flushed.

Kenny smirked and then put him down, chuckling a little to himself, “Thanks for comin’ Kylie.”

“Despite your obvious inability to respect personal space, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Kyle said, straightening his clothes, “You made Stan cry.”

“I did? Awesome! What part?”

“Did not!” Stan shouted.

“You did, too! I saw it. You big softie, you know you were crying in the second act. It was beautiful,” Kyle hummed. His eyes twinkled when he said, “It really was beautiful. An astounding performance, Kenny. You were so moving. Bravo.”

He actually felt the ovation this time. He grinned from ear to ear, knowing that the gap in his teeth was on full display, “Thanks.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Kenny noticed Kyle sober up, his generous smile fading into a short frown. He opened his mouth to say something-

-But then Kenny’s watch let out a _beep._

“Whoopsie-daisy,” Kenny said, embarrassed, “Sorry, dudes. I gotta get to my second job.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Wait, holdup,” Stan threw an arm around Kenny’s shoulders, “Your second job is at the gym, right?”

“Yeah. Graveyard shift.”

“We’ll go with you!”

Kenny and Kyle shared a brief moment of confusion.

“Why would y’all-”

“-Stan, it’s Saturday,” Kyle groaned, “I really don’t want to do any more workouts.”

“It’s okay, babe, you don’t have to,” Stan assured, pressing a kiss to Kyle’s temple, “We’ll just go to hang with Kenny! We can sit at the snack bar ‘n keep him company. It’ll be fun.”

Kenny snapped his fingers, “That deadass actually sounds fuckin’ fun. We can pretend it’s a real bar!”

Kyle winced, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do-”

“-Bullshit. It’s almost midnight and it’s Saturday,” Kenny pointed out, “There’ll be like, maybe, two people there. I won’t have much to do. Y’all come on down and we can have ourselves a little party.”

“Love the idea. I’m looking forward to it already!” Stan smiled, “Let’s walk there.”

Kyle groaned, “I’m too sore to walk.”

“It’s good that you’re sore,” Stan assured, “It means your muscles are tearing, you know that. Come on, let’s leave quick before we make Kenny late.”

“We can just take my truck, dude, it’s no big deal,” Kenny offered.

“No, no, we should walk. We ought to walk after sitting down for that whole show,” Stan assured, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and leading him down the lobby.

Before they could walk out the doors, Kyle pried Stan’s arms away.  
“Stan, hold on,” he pleaded, “I have that test coming up in one of my courses, remember? I need to study.”

“You need to study, but you still went to see Kenny’s play?”

“Yes, I wanted to.”

Something went dark in Stan’s eyes, “So you’re willing to go somewhere for Kenny, but you’re not willing to go somewhere for me.”

An unsettling silence surfaced between them.

Stan and Kyle stared at each other, unmoving, unflinching. They weren’t upset, as far as Kenny could tell, but they weren’t impassive either. Stan stared Kyle down with hurt pride, disappointment in his challenge, while Kyle looked extremely uncomfortable, borderline nauseated.  
They stared at each other like that for what felt like an eternity, when it was probably only a few seconds. Then there was a silent surrender, and Kyle shook his head, muttering, “Shit. You’re right. I’m sorry. That was pretty shitty of me.”

Stan bent down and kissed his forehead, “It’s okay.”

Somehow, Stan managed to out-argue Kyle before the argument even happened.

Kenny started to feel awkward—and that's a major understatement. He went from being their best friend to a third wheel, a third wheel who just witnessed some kind of emotional hiccup.

Feeling nervous and tense, Kenny resorted to keeping his head low as he followed them outside, stuffing his hands in his pockets. As they walked down the icy sidewalk, Kyle shot Kenny a look over his shoulder and mouthed the words ‘help me.’

Kenny felt a chill run down his spine, the crisp wind of the night making him shudder and flinch. He told himself it was the weather making him so numb and uncomfortable, trying to ignore the internal vex bubbling inside his gut.

For a second or two, Kenny wondered if Kyle wasn’t joking when he asked for help.

He snapped himself out of it.

Despite his paranoid concern, Kenny knew better.  
After all, Stan had done the exact same thing back at Kenny’s house just last night. He mouthed ‘help me’ as Karen stole him away to paint makeup on his face… his face that supposedly had scratches on it.

With a crack of lighting, rain started thundering down on the three of them, making them gasp and flinch at the sudden downpour. It had been too dark for any of them to see the storm clouds, but now it was already too late to escape it. Heavy rain was falling on them in buckets. The raindrops were pounding down so quickly that they stung Kenny’s flesh, biting his skin with nasty coldness.

_“Shit!”_ he screamed, breaking into surprised laughter. The sudden angry precipitation definitely caught him off guard, and he found himself laughing as the rain engulfed him.

Stan was whooping along with him, unsuccessfully trying to use his hands as an umbrella, “Welp! This is happening!”

Kenny threw his head back, opening his mouth to catch fat rain droplets on his tongue. He spun around in the rain, his arms outstretched, Stan dancing with him. They started to laugh boisterously, frolicking around in the midnight rain like madmen. They laughed, and screamed, and jumped, and danced while the icy rain pelted down on them.

As Stan danced in circles around him, Kenny stopped in his tracks, noticing that Kyle wasn’t participating. He stood in the rain with his arms crossed, shivering. His body language gave no indication he was joining them any time soon.

“C’mon, Kylie,” Kenny smiled, slightly breathless, “Can I steal you for a dance while your boyfriend ain’t lookin’?”

“It’s cold,” Kyle sniffed.

Kenny’s smile faltered, a worried frown coming to replace it, “Hey, you okay?”

Before Kyle could answer, Stan swooped in and took him by the arms. Kyle squirmed to get away, but Stan started to dance with him, spinning him and dipping him while the sky rained down on them from above.

“Kyle, do you not like dancing with me anymore?” Stan asked, leading him in a waltz.

“These are our _nice_ clothes,” Kyle groaned in Stan’s arms, “They’re getting ruined.”

“They’ll dry,” Stan assured, spinning him through the rain, “Why don’t you love me? You’re no fun anymore.”

“Gee, _sorry_ that I don’t think cat-and-dog-weather is a blast.”

Stan chortled sweetly, nuzzling his nose against Kyle’s cheek, “You just love to complain about things, don’t you? You know you’re having fun.”

“Mmn,” Kyle moaned, a sarcastic but romantic glint in his eyes, “Maybe.”

He grabbed Stan’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss.

When lightning struck a little too close for comfort, Kenny decided it was time to blow the whistle. The three of them stopped their rain-dance and made for the gym, running down the wet sidewalk. It might have even been hailing, but they were moving too fast to tell. With the icy sidewalk and the uncoordinated running, each of them slipped more times than they would like to admit, but somehow managed to make it to the gym in one piece.

As soon as Kenny clocked in, he dashed back to the employee locker room to gather towels. He found that there were no other people in the entire gym. Not even his coworker from the previous shift was present. The emptiness gave Kenny a relief he didn’t know he needed.

Coming back into the main room, he saw that Kyle and Stan were already seated at the snack bar, cuddling against each other as they shivered.

“Ay, Stanny-boy!” he called, chucking the towels directly at Stan’s head.

Stan was slow to respond. The towels hit him right in the face, “Owie.”

“Asshat, you know it didn’t hurt,” Kenny snorted, taking a towel for himself and scrubbing his hair.

Kyle clambered to unfold a towel and nestle inside of it. He curled himself up into a ball, pulling the fabric tightly around him.

Kenny couldn’t help but pity the sight, “Hey, you still cold? I think we got hot cocoa in the snack bar. I can get us some.”

Kyle’s teeth were chattering, so all he could manage was a nod.

“Awesome,” Kenny said, sliding over the counter to the employee side of the snack bar and getting to work.

Stan was shaking his head in perplexion, “You sell hot chocolate in a gym? Who in their right minds would buy hot chocolate in a _gym?”_

“A lot more people than you’d think,” was the only answer Kenny could offer.

Kenny didn’t like much about working the midnight shift at the only twenty-four-hour gym in town, but he had to admit it came with a shitload of perks, one of them being that he was allowed to eat and drink on the job.

At least he could come here after his performance. That was another perk to having the midnight shift. The average struggling actor would work a job during the day, and then take off early at night to go to rehearsal. Meanwhile, Kenny cheated the system; he woke up when everyone else clocked out and started his workday acting, and then went to his job at the gym afterwards. He usually finished work at the gym around six in the morning, when he would return home to take Karen to school, then go to bed.

It was a weird-ass schedule, Kenny had to admit. But he loved it. He liked that it suited him well, and he got a strange kick out of how unorthodox it was. He liked going against the grain. And honestly, it was always pretty funny to see his friends’ reactions when he explained his schedule, it almost gave him a sort of comic high he didn’t know he needed.

It paid well, too. (Another perk.) Not many people were willing to work the graveyard shift at a gym of all places, so he was paid a substantial amount when all he really did was doze off behind the snack bar and tend to the machines. That and, of course, make sure the midnight gym-goers weren’t being stupid— they usually were. There were a few times Kenny had to chase some drunkards out with a broom.

But that was about it. He was glad that it was just him and his best friends right now, even if they were soaking wet and practically frozen.

He started heating up some water in the microwave behind the snack bar, “Stan, my man? Want some cocoa?”

“No thanks, dude. I don’t like to eat or drink off-schedule,” Stan gave Kyle another towel, “And you shouldn’t either, babe, it’s not good for you. Especially not something with so much sugar.”

“Damn it,” Kyle muttered, pulling the extra towels around him.

Kenny felt his heart weaken, “Would, uh- I mean, would just one cup of chocolate hurt? I mean, I don’t know much about diabetes, but, like, it’ll warm you up.”

“It might hurt.”

“It won’t,” Kyle snapped at Stan.

“It might. Do you have your insulin on you, Kyle?”

“No. I didn’t think I’d need it when we left the apartment.”

Stan paused in thought. He shared a quick look with Kenny before he stood up from the bar, “We have that emergency pack in the cooler in our car. I’ll go grab it just in case.”

Kyle made a move to get up, “Stan, you don’t have to-”

“-Just in case,” Stan shrugged, “It’s a quick jog to the car and back. It’s no trouble.”

“Literally, just _one packet_ of cocoa won’t put me in a coma.”

“Just in case.”

“You don’t have to, Stan.”

“I want to.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to run, aren’t you?”

“What? No, babe, no,” Stan cooed, before pressing a kiss against Kyle’s lips.

Kenny pretended to gag.

Stan slapped the back of his neck, “Jerk. Be right back.”

Both Kenny and Kyle watched as Stan jogged off and out of the gym, still dripping wet, now using his overcoat as a shield from the icy rain outside. They watched until he was out of their sight, the rain pelting down in streaks on the other side of the window.

Kyle rolled his eyes, though a sadness lingered in his expression, “The stupid athlete. He’s always looking for excuses to move around.”

Kenny shivered, bundling up in his towel, “Man, that was a ballsy move on his part. If that dickhead catches a cold it’s his own damn fault.”

“Oh please,” Kyle rolled his eyes, still quivering, “Stan can’t catch a cold. At this point I’m convinced he’s immune to all illnesses. I’ve lived with him for almost three years now, and he’s never even gotten a headache.”

“Cool. Like a robot.”

“I wouldn’t say a ‘robot.’ He’s still a sweet-hearted hippie,” Kyle sighed to himself, “He has enough health for the both of us, I guess.”

Something about that line made Kenny uncomfortable. He couldn’t exactly place his finger on what it was, but the sentence carried with it an eerie, disheartening atmosphere. It didn’t make Kenny feel any better that Kyle was still shivering, his lips starting to turn blue.

Thankfully, the cocoa finished up just in time. Kenny poured the hot chocolate in two employee-only mugs and gave one to Kyle, topping it off with undersized marshmallows.

“Thanks,” Kyle said through chattering teeth. He started flipping through his wallet, “How much do I owe you?”

Kenny felt a flash of panic, remembering when Stan told him how sensitive Kyle was with money these days.  
He held up his hands in protest, “God, no, dude. You’re fine. It’s on the house.”

“Kenny, that’s not fair for you. You’re working right now. Let me pay.”

“Dude, seriously, you’re fine. It’s really nothing.”

“Bitch,” Kyle muttered under his breath. He pulled out about six or seven dollars and crammed them into the tip jar.

“Dude!” Kenny cried, “The drink was less than three dollars!”

“Well, it’s your own fault for not letting me pay you upfront,” Kyle muttered, taking a tenuous sip, flinching back at the heat.

Kenny could only chuckle under his breath. Silly him for thinking he could win an argument against the fiery redhead. It seemed like Stan was the only person who could do that.

Kyle clasped the mug with both hands, letting its heat warm him. When his teeth stopped chattering, he gave a soft word of praise, “Ken, really, your performance was incredible. I think this was your best role yet. And in such an iconic play, my God, you should be so proud of yourself.”

“I’m surprised you know the play,” Kenny felt himself smile.

“Of course I do. I drove Stan crazy with all the research I did before we went to see it.”

“It’s a good play.”

“It is. It’s just sad other people don’t realize it. It’s a shame theatre’s dying in our culture. You’d be able to make yourself a decent living off of acting if people respected it more.”

“Please. If I wanted money, I wouldn’t’ve become an actor,” Kenny laughed at himself, “Stupid Hollywood bitches makin’ show-biz sound like the best thing since sliced bread. I’ll tell you what, there’s no money in the field, really, there’s not. But it’s so good for me. Every time I step on that stage, it’s like-”  
-Kenny took a breath for dramatic effect-  
“-catharsis.”

Kyle gave a small smile at that, the light of the snack bar making the raindrops on his skin shimmer. He and Kenny were still shivering from their outdoor expenditure, crowding together across the counter for warmth, each of them basking in the other’s presence.

While it was just the two of them, Kenny wondered if he should ask about the supposed scratches on Stan’s face. Kyle would certainly know better than anyone besides Stan himself.

Though the thought occurred that asking Kyle might be inappropriate on Kenny’s part; it might give the impression he was talking about Stan behind his back.

Kenny considered alternatively if he should ask Kyle about the fight they had—or the ‘fit,’ as Stan called it- because at least in this scenario, Kyle had been there when it happened. But before Kenny could entertain the idea further-

-Kyle sneezed.

If it had been anyone else, Kenny would have simply said ‘bless you’ and moved on.  
But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Kyle, after just running several blocks through icy rain in the middle of the night.

Kenny swallowed, “Are you, uh- Are you feeling okay?”

Kyle shrugged, wiping his nose with one of the towels, “I guess? I don’t know. I just feel tired right now.”

Kenny set his cup of hot chocolate aside to press his hand to Kyle’s forehead.

“You’re a little warm,” he muttered, frowning. He could feel the clamminess of Kyle’s skin, but he couldn’t tell how much of it was rain and how much was genuine feverish sweat.

This… This could be bad. This could be really bad.

But before Kenny could spiral into intense Big Brother Mode, the front door swung open and Stan jogged inside. He was breathing completely fine, as if he hadn’t been running at all. He was soaked from head to toe, his entire body glistening, and he held a lunchbox cooler with Kyle’s needles and insulin inside.

“Hey, Stan!” Kenny called, “Get your ass over here!”

Stan almost dropped the cooler, “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think Kylie’s getting sick.”

“Uh oh,” Stan scurried over to them, also shoving his hand on Kyle’s forehead, “What kind of sick? You okay, Kyle?”

The redhead squirmed away at the sudden surplus of attention. He tugged the towels around himself tighter, “Guys, I’m fine! You two overreact about everythi-”

-he sneezed again.

“Bless you,” Stan said. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Crap. Welp, I guess this is my fault for making us run out in the rain.”

“You didn’t know it was going to rain, Stan. It’s not your fault.”

“I still feel bad, though,” he winced, “I’m real sorry, Ky. I’m a bad boyfriend, aren’t I?”

Kenny hopped over the snack bar counter, “Oh, put a cork in it, Stanny. This ain’t about you.”  
He started towards the employee room, “Tell you what, I’m gonna clock out early, then we can hop in my truck and I’ll drive you home.”

“Oh, Ken, you don’t have to do that.”

“I wanna.”

Kyle started to rub his temples; his nails were still painted, though their color was chipping. He looked like he was in legitimate pain as he held his forehead, squinting his eyes shut, “Kenny, don’t. You have to work. Don’t get in trouble with your boss on my account.”

_“Our_ account,” Stan intervened, wrapping an arm around Kyle, “I’ll take you back home and get some soup in you. Then it’s straight to bed, okay?”

Kyle huffed, starting to look really tired, “Stan, stop it. I’m not a child. And I’m not even sick, I’m just cold.”

“That’s why we have to get you home before you _do_ get sick,” Stan chastised.

Kenny was starting to feel like an unwanted third wheel all over again, “Guys, hold on. I can drive y’all. Really. My house is closer if you wanna spend the night again, and I can-”

“-Kenny,” Stan held up his hand to silence him, “You’re not the only person capable of taking care of someone, okay? Thanks for your offer, really. But you do too much for us. I got this.”

“But I wanna help,” Kenny cried helplessly, his heartstrings pulling.

Stan smiled bashfully, “You’re such a mollycoddler, Ken. You know that?”  
He scooped Kyle up from the stool, towels and all, and held him bridal style across his waist.

“I can _walk!”_ Kyle cried.

“You can, but you won’t,” Stan winked.

“Stan! Put me down before I kill you! I feel fine!”

“Jesus Christ, alright,” Stan sighed, setting Kyle down on his feet, “I’m still taking you home, though.”

“Fine, but you better start treating me with some goddamn respect.”

“When have I ever _not?”_ Stan asked. There was a pregnant silence before Stan shifted his gaze to the blonde across the gym, “Sorry about this, Kenny. I know you wanted to hang out.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” he answered indefinitely, “Just- Can I really not drive y’all home?”

Kyle shook his head tiredly, “Kenny, no. Relax.”

Kenny licked his lips nervously, “Just- Just get home safe for me. ‘kay?”

“You worry too much,” Stan said, linking arms with Kyle and leading him toward the door, “But sure thing, Ken. I’ll text you the minute we get back to our apartment.”

“Wait!” Kenny called, grabbing the lunchbox cooler they were about to leave behind.

“Whoops. Didn’t see that. You’re a lifesaver, Ken,” Stan smiled. He moved in close, still bonded to Kyle with one arm, offering the other arm, “Here, hang up the strap.”

Kenny stepped in and placed the strap around Stan’s shoulder. After the cooler was tucked in, he sent them home, Stan bounding off with Kyle safely embraced in his outstretched arm.

When Kenny was left all alone in his workspace, he felt an immediate panic surge in his stomach. He realized that when he had hung the lunchbox strap over Stan’s shoulder, he had been close enough to see Stan’s face.

Karen was wrong.

The scratches on Stan’s face didn’t look like they were from razor-blades. They looked like they were from fingernails.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there is any confusion, I had a username change. This new one is a little more personal, and I like it :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope this chapter isn't too boring. I'm working on the pacing. ;-;

“Kyle, stop it.”

“Back off.”

“Seriously, it’s not cute anymore.”

“I never said it was cute! Leave me alone!”

“For the love of God, Kyle, stop it!”

“What the hell, Stan?! It’s just the dishes!”

Kyle stood at the kitchen sink, elbows deep in soapy water as he scrubbed a pile of dirty dishware. He had been laboring over them for almost an hour now, and it was driving Stan insane.

They owned a dishwasher in their one-bedroom apartment, but they never used it. Kyle thought it was inefficient, clunky, and it added one too many digits to the bill. Kyle didn’t want to rely on it anyway, he would much rather wash dishes by hand. He had a system in the kitchen; cooking and cleaning alike had to be done the right way.

Stan described his “system” as “OCD.”  
Kyle had tried to make it clear to Stan several times that “OCD” can’t be used to describe something because it’s a noun, not an adjective, but Stan couldn’t even grasp the concept.

Kenny, on the other hand, just described his system as an ode to being a good housewife, a statement that Kyle did not hold himself back from castigating.

Kyle was a far cry from a housewife. He kept house, sure, but that was only because Stan never cleaned the right way, and it pissed Kyle off to the point where he forbade Stan from cleaning anything ever. The two of them took turns cooking and they shared all kinds of responsibilities in the life they were striving to scrap together for themselves.

Besides, Kyle was hardly ever at home anyway, he was always up on his feet working or learning. Kyle was enrolled in community college to get a financial degree— something that Cartman gave him hell over “for being a greedy little Jewrat,” but he just ignored that statement. And when he wasn’t studying, Kyle worked at the campus bookstore in an effort to put a little extra food on the table.

Kyle and Eric were the only two of their clad who moved onto college. Cartman was studying abroad in Germany, double-majoring in business and World War II History, which was both a curse and a saving grace for Kyle. Eric may be off living some creepy sadistic fantasy, but at least he was out of the picture.

Over Kyle’s shoulder, he could see his boyfriend peering into the kitchen.

Stan gave a long sigh, a heartbroken sound buzzing past his lips. He slumped to Kyle’s side, where he took his wrists and pulled them out of the sink.

Stan drew Kyle’s hands to his chest, soap bubbles and dishwater dripping down onto his shirt.

Pressing up against him, Kyle could feel Stan’s rhythmic heartbeat between his fingers, the pulse deep, strong, and soothing. The gesture was saccharine, and it allayed Kyle’s frenzy almost instantly.

“Kyle,” Stan said softly, “You really don’t need to be doing the dishes when you’re sick. I’ve been saying that for, like, an hour now.”

Kyle tilted his head back charmingly, “And _you_ do not need to be getting this close to a sick person.”

“Okay, so now you admit you’re sick,” Stan scoffed.

“No,” Kyle teased, flicking water droplets at him, “I just changed my mind, that’s all. And there’s no law that says sick people can’t wash dishes.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“And?”

“And you’re sick and you need to rest,” Stan said. He snagged the sponge before Kyle could get to it, “Let me.”

If he hadn’t been so sick, Kyle would have been able to come up with a proper rebuttal and snatch the sponge back. But instead, he just grunted and stepped aside, letting Stan take his place at the sink, albeit frustratedly.

Kyle crossed his arms over the counter, “But I already called in sick at the bookstore, and you’re not letting me go to my classes, so it’s not like I have anything to _do.”_

“You can get better,” Stan suggested.

“That’s not something I can just decide to do. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Try harder.”

“I am trying, right now.”

“You’re not trying,” Stan said, setting a plate aside on the drying rack, “If you were trying, you’d actually let yourself rest.”

Kyle groaned. He lacked the energy to argue further, which only proved just how ill he really was. His throat was tight and his head was feverish, so there was no choice but to unwind at least a little bit. He had to bottle up his pride as he sat down on a nearby chair, while Stan worked on the dishes right in front of him, almost mockingly.

A while into the washing, Kyle asked with a scratchy throat, “How’m I doing?”

After drying his hands with a dishtowel, Stan took a thermometer from a drawer and tucked the tip under Kyle’s tongue. 

When it beeped, Stan released a sigh of relief.

“You still have a fever, but it went down two degrees,” Stan smiled, ruffling Kyle’s matted hair in between his fingers.

“Being sick sucks,” Kyle murmured, squeezing his eyes shut at Stan’s touch.  
Normally, the redhead was averse to overbearing attention, but he allowed it this time. Stan’s fingers felt nice in his hair. He was beginning to relax, his peaked nerves settling at the gentle touches.

Stan thumbed his uncombed curls gingerly, murmuring, “I know. I hate seeing you sick. We need to work on building up your immune system.”

“We’ve tried that already.”

“We’re still working on it,” Stan corrected, “Health is a lifelong thing. You can’t just accomplish it once and it sticks forever. You’ve got to work with it. And Kyle, you’re _much_ better at working with things than me, you know I give up on things pretty easily. And if _I_ can do it...” he ended with a light tease.

“Geez,” Kyle groaned, “So you’re going to make me workout until I die?”

“Stop pretending you hate everything. The entire world isn’t out to get you,” Stan shook his head at Kyle’s histrionic disposition, “And for the record, the point of working out is that you _don’t_ die.”

“You’re a health-nut.”

“That’s not an insult.”

“You’re a stupid health-nut.”

“And you love it,” Stan grinned.

Kyle accidentally let himself smile. He tried to hide it, but Stan already saw it.  
So he just rolled his eyes and pretended to brush it off, “Whatever.”

Stan wasn’t fooled, but he smiled anyway, so Kyle grinned back, leaning forward.

They were so close to each other that Kyle caught a whiff of Stan’s beguiling scent. He could see every detail of Stan’s face, his stout jawline, and his alluring dark eyes.

Kyle could have allowed the moment to be romantic. He could have let himself indulge in their sentimental closeness, but he didn’t when he let his gaze drift to the scabs lining Stan’s face, wincing at the memory of how they came to be.

Kyle let a finger drift up to delicately touch one of the scratches, guilt writhing in his gut.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” Kyle whispered.

At Kyle’s deft touch, Stan’s expression went cold. His eyes dimmed and he pulled away, moving back to the sink to the dishes.

“Oh, bury the hatchet, Kyle,” he said curtly.

“Stan,” Kyle’s throat clenched, “Don’t be mad. I’m only saying sorry-”

“-I’m not mad. And the fact that I’m not proves that I’m trying to let this go,” Stan huffed, scrubbing a bowl in his hands with too much force, “You’re the one who needs to drop it and just let it sit.”

“I don’t let things sit,” Kyle said, keeping his irritation under control, “If there’s a mess, I clean it up. I don’t just sweep it under the rug. I want to fix this problem, Stan.”

“Not now.”

“Stan-”

“-Kyle, not now,” Stan said, a little more fervently, “You’re sick. You’re not well enough to have this talk.”

“But I feel better now than how I felt when it happened.”

Stan glared.

For a second, he looked like he was going to move in on him, but then Stan just wiped his hands with the towel, keeping his gaze low, “Not now. I leave for work in five minutes.”

“You do?” Kyle asked, noticing the late hour for the first time.

As he looked at the time, Kyle realized how ill he really was. He slept through most of the day without noticing it. The clock read that it was already past three in the afternoon, and Stan had to go to work.

Stan could have easily gone to college if that was what he wanted; he had enough scholarships from football to get him anywhere. But the pessimistic, self-conscious side of himself decided that he was only capable of earning minimum wage no matter what he ended up doing. Despite his parents’ and Kyle’s most strenuous efforts to help him see his potential worth, Stan decided it was best for him to just ignore college altogether.

Stan worked various jobs in the late evenings, juggling positions as a coach for kids’ football, a referee for kids’ soccer, a lifeguard at the local hotel, and a freelance personal trainer. It was a lot to do, and at times, Kyle feared it taxed him, but Stan seemed to really enjoy it. He liked moving around and he liked working with kids. He said he was just grateful that he found a way to make a living off of sports, and that he was happy.

Though Stan was far from happy now.

He was ignoring Kyle, holding his tongue in his indisputable discontent. He stormed out of the kitchen to their bedroom. When he came back again, he carried an athletic bag at his hip, a whistle hanging around his neck.

He refused to even look Kyle’s way, and the tension was starting to make him extremely uncomfortable. Stan was rarely angry. The only times he was truly distressed were when he was drunk or when he was anxious. Unlike Kyle, who had an unyielding ire and a short temper. 

It was almost like they had switched places; Stan was fuming on the inside, holding himself back from lashing out, while Kyle was watching him with passive concern.

Not wanting to upset Stan any further, Kyle tried for small talk, “So, who’re you coaching today? Your fourth grade team or your sixth grade team?”

“Neither,” Stan said curtly. He was intently focused on tying his shoes, “It’s Sunday. I’m lifeguarding.”

Kyle blanched.

He found himself feeling guilty. He knew Stan’s schedule. Fuck, he knew it better than Stan knew it.  
Whether it was because he was sick or because he was stressed, Kyle let Stan’s schedule slip his mind and that fault made him feel a lot worse than it should have. He felt like he just committed a crime.

Not knowing what else to do to settle his nerves, Kyle desperately went back to the kitchen sink and started to wash out a glass. The scrubbing of his hands was disjointed as he strained to get a grip on the dishes— strained to get a grip on himself. He was almost manic in his washing, holding himself back from snapping with every nerve in his ailing body.

Stan must have noticed Kyle’s distress from the corner of his eye, because his own tense disposition softened, his handsome face drooping in pity.

He met him at the sink. He leaned in to give a gentle, lasting kiss to Kyle’s forehead. Stan held the kiss longer than normal, as if waiting to feel something more, before he pulled away.

“Guess what,” Stan offered lightly.

Kyle took a settling breath. He waited until he knew he could control himself, before playing along, forcing a smile, “What is it?”

“I hired a babysitter to watch you while you’re sick.”

Kyle dropped the glass, “What?!”

Stan smiled.

From the playful look in his eyes alone, Kyle understood what Stan meant, and it settled his nerves in an instant. He rolled his eyes, “Oh. Kenny.”

“The dude’s been texting every hour on the dot,” Stan said fondly, “He’s making me give him constant updates on how you’re doing. He actually offered to come watch you before I even told him I have a lifeguard shift today. He’s such a mollycoddler.”

“Does his schedule make it okay for him to come over, though?” Kyle asked, going back to the glass, “Like, does he need to sleep, or work, or anything?”

“Apparently, he just woke up ten minutes ago. He’d been keeping himself awake to text every hour, but he was sleeping between each text.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Really. I don’t know how that guy does it,” Stan ran a hand through his hair, “Anyway, he’ll stay over ‘til maybe six thirty. Seven at the absolute latest, ‘cause he has to go do another show at eight. But I’m going to see if I can get off work early and come home before then.”

“And if you can’t, it’s fine,” Kyle assured, “I’m quite capable of being home alone, you know.”

“Not while you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“But you admitted you were!”

“I changed my mind.”

“You little-!”

Off in the distance, there was the familiar _click_ of the doorknob turning, and then the front door swung open. Kenny sauntered inside, jaunty in nature as he called out, “Hey, y’all really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked! That’s not safe you know, ‘specially not in this neighborhood. I mean, no offense, but y’all really aren’t-”  
-he stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of them in the kitchen, his eyes narrowing angrily.

“Stan!” he barked.

Stan flinched, “What?!”

“Why the hell are you making Kyle do the dishes while he’s sick?!”

“Jesus Christ, Kenny, don’t yell at me! I tried to stop him!”

“You didn’t try hard enough!”

Kyle and Stan broke into startled laughter. Turning to look at each other, they shared a simper. Kyle rolled his eyes while Stan just gave a sappy shrug.

“I, uh- I don’t have time for this,” Stan blew air out of his lips, “I have to go to work. Sowee.”

“Bye, Stan,” Kyle waved, “Don’t let any kiddos pee in the pool.”

Stan cringed, “Uh. Ew. Sometimes I feel like lifeguarding is just babysitting in swimsuits... gross. I’m done now. Bye-Bye.”

Kyle leaned in to give him a parting kiss, but seeing the scratches once more, pulled himself back. He returned to fervidly washing the dishes.

The others in the room both noticed it.

Stan nervously readjusted the athletic bag on his shoulder. Then, he bit down on his tongue and turned to leave, giving Kenny a firm pat on the shoulder as he passed him.

Kyle couldn’t hear much over his obsessive scrubbing and the sporadic splashes of sink-water, but his ears distinctly picked a _click._ He lifted his gaze from the sink, raising an eyebrow at Kenny, “Hey, was that you?”

Kenny was standing by the front door, uncomfortable in his wavering stance.  
When Kyle addressed him, his blue eyes snapped to attention, “What?”

“Did you make that noise?”

Kenny gave a noncommittal gesture to the door, “I only locked it.”

“You don’t need to. Stan will be home in just a few hours.”

“Well, when he’s here, I’ll unlock it,” Kenny shrugged, kicking off his shoes.

Kyle couldn’t help but notice how strange Kenny seemed. He was fidgety, his fingers twitching. His expression was aloof, but blue his eyes were laden with disquietude.

He finished the dishes, drying his hands with a towel, “Hey, Ken, what’s up?”

Kenny shook his head, “You shouldn’t be askin’ me if _I’m_ okay.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Kyle resisted the urge to eye-roll, “You’re going to yell at me now because _I’m_ sick and I’m the one who needs to be looked after.”

“No, dude, _Stan.”_

Kyle’s hands gripped around the towel, “Stan?”

“Did you see ‘im? He was acting really weird,” Kenny shouldered off his parka, letting it drop to the floor.

Kyle picked it up and strung it on the coat rack, “I didn’t get him sick or anything.”

“I ain’t saying you did. It’s just- What happened to him?” Kenny asked, stripping off his socks, too.

Kyle took Kenny’s socks and shoes and organized them in the closet, “He went to work.”

He started to back out of the closet, but something blocked his path. Kenny stood erect in the doorframe, sticking out his arms to corner Kyle in the depths of the closet. His physicality was stringent, and his deep blue eyes were intense with worry.

Kyle froze, “Kenny, what d-?”

“-I mean, what _happened_ to him?!” Kenny cried, “Like, just then in the kitchen, and on his face, he had those-!”  
-He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence, “...does this count as talking about people behind their back?”

“This counts as cornering me in a closet while my boyfriend isn’t home,” Kyle raised a speculative eyebrow, “You okay, Ken?”

Kenny’s frantic worry lingered, his chest rising up and down.

Then his arms slumped to his sides, dropping so slowly it looked like Kenny was moving through molasses. His arms left the frame, but he didn’t move out of the doorway, “I don’t know, I just- I _worry.”_

“I know you worry,” Kyle looked him up and down anxiously, “What’s going on, dude?”

Kenny leaned against the doorframe, “Sorry, Kylie. I just-...” he lolled his head back against the wood defeatedly, “I prolly just about gave you a heart attack. ‘m sorry. I keep promisin’ Karen I won’t be such a rash brute so I won’t scare people, but-... I don’t know. I try. It’s not working, but I try.”

Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. As he stood there presently, watching Kenny deflate like a balloon in front of him, a smile found its way to his face.  
Kenny was endearing in every sense of the word. He played all details of his life by ear and had the tendency to be irrational, yes, but his heart was in the right place all the while. Observing him as he sagged against the doorframe, Kyle couldn’t help but condole with him.

Kyle tried to hide his sympathetic smile, his heart tingling in fondness, “You know, it’s okay to worry. It’s good to care about things.”

Kenny sniffed as if he had been crying. Kyle could see that his cheeks were dry and untainted, but the blue hue of his eyes was glassed over. He slouched at the mouth of the closet, his remorse unceasing.

“Ken, you didn’t give me a heart attack,” Kyle insisted, “You don’t scare anyone, we all know you’re just a little improvisio when it comes to things you care about.”

Kenny sniffed again, “That’s a cool word.”

“‘Improvisio?’ Yeah, I think it suits you.”

Kenny smiled a bit, perking up at Kyle’s tenuous praise.

For a moment, it felt like Kenny was going to reach in and hug him, and Kyle got ready to hug him back. But then they both seemed to remember that Kyle was sick, and pulled back. They ended up just standing there awkwardly.

Breaking the momentary silence, Kyle resorted to asking, “So ‘re you all good?”

“Question is, is St-” Kenny cleared his throat, “Qu-Question is, are _you_ all good?”

Kyle pretended not to notice his slip-up, “Yeah. I can still walk and talk and just- you know, _function.”_

“So what kinda bug you got? Do y’know?”

“I don’t know. I think it's just a bad cold. I haven’t thrown up or anything, and my fever went down.”

“Yeah? Good for you!”

“Yes, but can we take this conversation out of the closet now?”

“Kyle coming out of the closet? I thought this happened years ago!”

Kyle punched his arm.

The blonde only laughed.

“Can you fucking move, Kenny? I have things to do.”

“No, you don’t have things to _do!”_ Kenny pouted, “You can come out of the closet _only_ if you rest and relax!”

“Ha. Guess I’m staying in here then,” Kyle crossed his arms and sat down on the closet floor.

“Wrong answer,” Kenny grinned, before leaning in and snaring Kyle around the ankles. Not two seconds later, he was dragging him across the floor to the living room.

At first, Kyle was too surprised to fight back. But when it finally dawned on him that he was being dragged across bleached hardwood, he started kicking and pulling to get away.

“Kenny! Shit, let go!” he cried, an accidental laugh escaping him as he tried to thrust himself away.

“Okay!” Kenny said, before scooping him up off the ground and tossing him down on the couch, “Now, stay put.”

Kyle landed on the couch cushions, his body tenuously jerking at the impact.

He satirically glared at the blonde grinning down at him, “Kenny, you bastard.”

“You’re gonna sit there and stay pretty ‘til you get better, Kylie,” Kenny warned with his forefinger. He sat down on the loveseat opposite Kyle’s couch and crossed his arms, “And I’m gonna sit here and make sure you do.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ‘improvisio.’”

“I regret teaching you that word. Now you’re never going to let me live it down,” Kyle sighed.  
He would have given a stronger argument, but he had to admit, he really was feeling unwell. His itchy throat made it a chore to simply talk, so he didn’t have the convenience of ranting in his natural way without straining himself. Not to mention, with his nose all stuffed up, he spoke with as much nasal congestion as Craig Tucker.

Kyle let his head fall back against the arm of the couch, pressing a hand to his overheated forehead. But just as he was starting to relax, his ears picked up on a small ruckus coming from his kitchen.

He peeked one eye open, calling out, “Kenny?”

Answering on cue, Kenny poked his head around the corner of the kitchen wall, “Need somethin’ Kylie?”

“No, just what’re you doing?”

“Gettin’ coffee,” he paused, then added, “Sorry, I shoulda asked first.”

Kyle winced guiltily, “No, dude it’s fine. You just woke up didn’t you? Damn, sorry for ruining your schedule, Ken.”

“Pssh. There’s no better way I’d rather spend my mornin’ than driving you crazy. This is gonna be an adventure for both of us,” he paused, peering into the fridge, “Hey, do y’all have creamer or milk or anything?”

“No, sorry. We, uh- We have oat milk?” Kyle suggested, feeling admittedly even worse for Kenny.

There wasn’t a single dairy product in the whole apartment; neither Kyle nor Stan touched the stuff anymore.

To literally no one in town’s surprise, Stan went vegan in his teenage years. He loved that he was “saving the animals,” in his own words, and he was obsessed over the health benefits it gave him.

Kyle, on the other hand, was not vegan, though he tended to eat vegan most of the time since it was dairy-free.  
After the passing of his mother, he found himself subconsciously picking up on her old religious habits. He started following the kosher diet, for one thing. He didn’t even realize it at first. Then, he started bringing out his mom’s box of candles for dinner every Friday night, and started going to synagogue on every High Holy Day that he could, even though it was a forty-five minute drive from his apartment and the commute was a burden on the car.  
The cherry on top of it all was the mirthful truth that Eric Cartman was gone, so Kyle had the liberty to actually conduct his practice without being tormented.

“Fuckin’ hippies with their goddamn anti-milk milk,” Kenny muttered under his breath, taking his coffee, untouched by the dairy alternative, to the living room. He took a sip, making a sour face at the bitterness.

“Sorry?” Kyle offered, holding back a shaky laugh.

Kenny just ignored him, instead opting to point out, “Your nails are chippin’.”

In his ailment, it took awhile for Kyle to understand what Kenny was talking about. Then he realized Kenny was referring to his nails that Karen had painted the other night. His fingernails, that were previously colored in greens and oranges, now bore cracks that revealed the peachy cartilage underneath.

Kyle snorted to himself, looking at his nails, “Yeah. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. That Karen’s a sweetie.”

One of the many, many things about Kenny McCormick that Kyle could never understand was how well he was taking care of his little sister. Kenny was more of a parent to her than their real parents, and he proved it time and time again. He was always there when she needed him, but also had the gentlemanly decency to leave her alone when she wanted space. He fed her, clothed her- hell, he practically raised her.

Karen was sixteen now. It made Kyle feel old to think about all the times in his younger years, when he was at the McCormick house and saw her stumble into the room as a little toddler, asking to play with them. 

Karen was older now. She could drive, she could cook, and she could keep Kenny in line whenever he was being… improvisio.

Kyle wouldn’t say that he was jealous of their siblinghood, because that wasn’t true. He knew Kenny and Karen had been to hell and back together, and they definitely deserved the strong, healthy relationship that they had. His only problem was that at times, he merely wished that he could indulge in what they had, even just a portion of it.

His own little brother Ike graduated high school early, and then promptly went off to an elite university in Vancouver. Ike didn’t even give Kyle the chance to spend any time with him. He just packed up and left without a proper goodbye.

Either Ike didn’t recognize just how much Kyle adored him, or he didn’t care, and that stung deep.

Kyle picked at a painted nail, the coat flaking off, “Maybe Karen can repaint them. I don’t think I’d mind. Can she visit anytime soon?”

“I thought about bringing her ‘round, but I didn’t wanna risk getting her sick,” Kenny admitted, “Hope you don’t mind.”

Kyle was crestfallen only for a second. Kenny had a point. He nodded in agreement, “Sure. I don’t want her to get sick either. Can she come by when I’m well again?”

“Yup,” Kenny popped the ‘p’ on his reply, “I’m sure she’s lookin’ forward to the next time she can turn you into a pageant queen.”

“Wonderful. I’m excited.”

“A playdate it is, then. But you _do_ realize what you just did, right?”

Kyle’s throat tightened, “What? What’d I do?”

“You gave yourself motivation to get better,” he smirked, “So now you _hafta_ rest!”

“Damn it,” Kyle threw his head back against the arm of the couch, “Kenny, you jerk, you’re a swindler.”

“I don’t swindle, I enlighten,” Kenny wiggled his eyebrows, “So get better, or else you lose your playdate privileges.”

“I will, I will,” Kyle groaned, choking a little at the phlegm in the back of his throat. He was too depleted to banter for much longer, so he let himself give in, collapsing back against the sofa. Kyle felt like shit, to put it lightly, but he took comfort in knowing that he was already doing better. He was sure this was just going to be a quick bug and he would be wholly recovered in no time.

But of course, he knew that as soon as he was well, he had to endure that much anticipated talk with Stan.  
What Kyle _didn’t_ know, however, was if that was another motivation to get better, or a reason to try to stay for as sick as long as he could manage. This talk… he wanted to have it so badly, but it _terrified_ him.


	4. Chapter 4

By Monday, Kyle’s fever was gone.

When Kenny heard the news, he immediately invited Stan and Kyle over for the evening, but they didn’t want to visit. They insisted that Kenny should take advantage of the fact he didn’t have another show until Thursday, and just rest.

Kenny didn’t rest, of course. He spent his free evening shopping with Karen. He bought her a nice necklace and treated her to iced coffee afterwards.

Come Tuesday, he had to punch the clock at the gym again.   
He was just walking out of the employee’s room, pinning his tacky nametag onto his shirt, when his eye caught a pair of familiar faces dogtrotting the treadmills.

At first, Kenny thought his eyes were fooling him. His friends couldn’t possibly be here at this hour. He had to look down at his watch to confirm that it was, in fact, exactly three minutes after midnight, and Stan and Kyle were right here in living flesh.

He approached the treadmills, keeping his hands in his pockets, “‘sup, guys. What’s going on?”

Stan, who was barely sweating, tore a pair of music headphones from his ears. He maintained his incredible pace as he smiled down from the machine, “Hey, Kenny! What’re you doing here in the evening? Did you swap a shift with someone?”

“No,” Kenny raised a speculative eyebrow, “My shift just started. It’s midnight.”

Even though Stan’s eyes went comically wide, his pace didn’t let up in the slightest.   
“Seriously?” he asked, not even breathless.

“Yeah, seriously. What time did y’all get here?”

“Like eight PM, I think. I’m not sure,” Stan turned to his left, where Kyle was doing his best to keep his pace on the next treadmill, “Ky, hon, we got here around eight, right?”

Stan had been talking so effortlessly that Kenny almost forgot just how fast they were running. When he looked over at Kyle, the realization dropped on him like a bombshell.

Kyle was struggling to keep up. He was on a different treadmill, sure, but his and Stan’s were both set to the same breakneck velocity. He was flushed around the face, and he couldn’t control the rhythm of his breathing as well as Stan could.

When Stan addressed him, Kyle just gave a half-shrug. He was keenly more focused on the treadmill, so he barely even looked in Stan’s direction. He had his eyes downcast, only partially focused as he ran.

For a second or two, Kenny wondered if Kyle had even noticed he was there.

A lump rose in Kenny’s throat, and it hurt to swallow it down. He coughed somewhat awkwardly into his hand before he asked, “So, uh, not to be a dick or anything, Stan, but you thought it was a good idea to hit the gym, like, two seconds after he’s not sick?”

Stan shrugged, a simpered smile plastered to his unblemished face, “We’re working on getting him healthy.”

“‘kay, but-” Kenny tried to ignore the anxiety rising in his gut, “-like… Kyle was sick?”

“Yeah?”

“And you thought it’d be fine to run the treadmill so soon?”

“It’s my cardio day,” Stan said automatically.

“Okay, well, uh… Not to tell ya what to do or nothing, but, wouldn’t it be better to start with something like yoga or light pilates?”

“No, not really. Gotta clear up the nasal cavity and get some air to the lungs. Get some blood pumping.”

It was astounding how Stan could keep up conversation so flawlessly while he was bolting up the belt at an outrageous speed. Stan ran like it was nothing, meanwhile Kyle practically toiled over himself right next to him.

A guttural feeling weighed Kenny down on the inside. Something about this state of affairs was irking under his skin. He wasn’t sure who he was supposed to worry about: Kyle or Stan.

As he observed Stan, who was entirely complacent pounding his gym shoes down on the conveyor, a statement Kyle once made started to ring through his head like church bells.  _ He’s always looking for excuses to move around. _ _  
_ Kenny had worked at this gym for more than a year now, and he knew perfectly well the downsides of over-exercising. He couldn’t count how many times he had to scoop up insecure athletes or anorexic convalescents from the floor and hail an ambulance to take them to the hospital. Stan’s physicality was a far cry from the ill people he sometimes had to handle, but now that Kenny thought about it, there had certainly been times when Stan demonstrated a worryingly devoted discipline towards health and fitness.   
Like now. He wasn’t even sweating. And if he got to the gym at 8:00, that would mean Stan had been exercising for four hours now.

Kenny licked his lips nervously, “Stan, maybe you shoul-”

“-Damn it, Stan-!” Kyle suddenly gasped out in between pants, “Can we slow down a little?!”

The uneasy feeling in Kenny’s stomach was churning at full force now.

He had been so worried about Stan that he failed to notice how unhinged Kyle became. He was red in the face from running, but he somehow looked pale at the same time. His breathing went from unsteady to absolutely spasmodic, the panicked sound of his gasps making Kenny cringe.

Stan’s rhythmic jogging went on undisturbed.

“Since when do you give up on anything? I know you. You don’t half-ass things, Kyle. Just keep going,” Stan encouraged.

Kenny shuddered, “Stan, maybe you really should-”

“-Stan, I’m dying here!” Kyle snapped, gripping onto the handrails.

Stan rolled his eyes, “Do you have to complain about everything? You’re doing great, babe.”

“How the hell do-... Shit… H-How do you turn this thing off?”

“You’re fine.”

“I don’t-...  _ Shit…” _

“It’s supposed to be hard. You’re supposed to struggle, Kyle. How are you going to get healthy if you don’t push yourself?”

The debate came to a head mere seconds later.

Kyle’s eyes rolled back into his skull, his hands slipping from the handrails.

Kenny was only grateful he picked up on the signs in time.   
Moving on instinct, Kenny darted forward and slammed his hand down on the emergency stop button. He threw himself at the rear of the treadmill to catch Kyle as fast as he could. It was a godsend Kenny saved him before he could fall on the moving belt and severely injure himself.

Hooking his grip under Kyle’s armpits, Kenny pulled him away from the machine, muttering under his breath, “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck…” _

Stan hopped off his own treadmill, bolting to Kenny’s side. He was breathing hard for the first time that night, “Shit! God, oh god, I didn’t mean to. I had no idea, honest-! He just-... I didn’t mean to!”

“Dude, back off!” Kenny grunted.

Stan’s chest rose and fell aggressively, “Come on, Kenny, you know he likes to bitch about things! How the hell was I supposed to know?!”

“Jesus H. Christ, Stan! Give me some space!” Kenny roared, hoisting the unconscious body up in his hold, “I’m workin’ here! We have a fuckin’ procedure for this kind of thing! Back off!”

He didn’t allow him any time to react. Kenny just tucked his arms around Kyle and stormed off to the employees-only room, making sure the door shut in place behind him.

The humble solitude of the employees’ room was far too quiet for Kenny to bear, especially after the thundering music of the gym and the frantic blares Stan had shouted at him. This room, with its withering furniture and its flickering lights, was eerie in its quietness.

Kenny laid Kyle down on the patients’ bench, making sure that his head was level with his chest.

The first thing he did was check for a pulse, and was overwhelmed with gratitude when he felt it beating beneath the clammy flesh of Kyle’s neck. Kenny was even more relieved when he discovered Kyle was still breathing.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Following the routine procedures instilled in him, Kenny checked his watch to assess how much time had passed since Kyle fainted. He grimaced when he realized that they were past the half-minute mark already.

Looking down at his limp form from above, Kenny started to lightly tap the sides of his face, all the while mumbling, “Come on, Kylie, you stupid fuck...”

When two and a half minutes passed, Kenny had to rise from the bench. He went to fetch a bottle of water, already feeling guilty at the thought of having to splash it on Kyle.

He was going to hate this. He was  _ so _ going to hate this. He was moving through the motions of a trained professional, sure, but Kenny was still panicking, because  _ Kyle _ was his patient. Having to use force on him was undoubtedly going to procreate tension between the two of them; he already knew it wouldn’t easily pass. He was going to  _ hate _ this.

But before he could even locate water, he saw Kyle’s eyelids flutter open, an unsure hand rising to touch his forehead.

“Jesus,” Kenny panted gratefully, scrambling back to the bench.

Kyle looked around, his green eyes glazed over in exhaustion and confusion.

“Stay down,” Kenny said, sitting down beside him.

“Well, crap…” Kyle muttered, he was looking Kenny’s way but not meeting his gaze.

“You said it, partner,” Kenny sighed.

He wanted nothing more than to smother him in attention and nurse him until he was well again, but he was subconsciously aware that he had to do what he was supposed to do. He had to follow the goddamn dizzy-spell script; “Hey, do you think you can talk?”

“Yeah…”

“Great. I’m gonna ask you a few questions, ‘kay?”

“Mmn… sure.”

“Any chest pains?”

“None.”

“You brilliant fuckin’ twerp. Wonderful. Headache?”

“No.”

“You’re making me so happy. Numbness or tingling?”

“Um… I don’ know, a little?”

“Fuck you,” Kenny checked his vitals again, before getting up from the bench to get to the cabinets on the other side of the room, peering inside for any foods or drinks his coworkers might have left behind.

Kyle made a move to get up and follow him, but Kenny spun around and scolded him, “No. Stay down. At least twenty minutes.”

Kyle gave a noncommittal noise of surrender, resting back against the bench.

Kenny offered a light joke to loosen him up, “Hey, lookie here. You’re finally resting, Ky. If I’d known that a little running is all it takes to get you to take it easy, I woulda had you run laps ‘round your apartment.”

Kyle groaned something sarcastic.

Kenny internally smiled. At least his personality was still intact. That had to mean his fainting spell was nothing too serious.

Kenny fished out a few snack bags from the cabinet, as well as a juice pouch and a bottle of water he was lucky enough to find. Then he climbed back up on the bench, positioning himself so that Kyle’s head was propped up on his lap.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” Kenny assured, helping him drink from the water bottle, “Trust me. I’ve seen far worse shit. You’re gonna be good, lil’ guy.”

Kyle mumbled something in agreement between sips.

After he managed to down half the bottle, Kenny helped him lean forward on his lap, giving him a few snacks and ordering him to eat. While Kyle’s tentative fingers fiddled with opening a snack package, Kenny couldn’t hold himself back from saying, “You’re such a bull, you know that?”

“What?” Kyle asked.

“You’re a stubborn-ass overachiever,” Kenny said. He was trying to joke, but his worry was accidentally leaking into his tone, “You always push yourself too hard. You’re gonna end up hurt real bad one day if you keep pushing. Imagine what coulda happened to you if me or Stanny wasn’t there to protect you.”

Kyle gave a lazy eye-roll, “Yeah. Stan sure did a great job protecting me this time, didn’t he?”

“Hey, it wasn’t his fault I didn’t let him back here. There’s a literal procedure for these sorta things and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t let him near you, just ‘cause-”

-The sadness in Kyle’s green eyes was enough to make Kenny realize what he really meant.

“Oh shit,” Kenny almost dropped the water bottle, “It, uh- It was Stan who was pushing you too hard, huh?”

Kyle didn’t answer directly, but his silence spoke enough for him.

“Oh,” was the only sound Kenny could manage.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah...”

“...oh.”

“Kenny, calm down, you look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

“I feel like I’m gonna,” Kenny muttered, his head spinning, “What… What’s going on between you two?”

Kyle sat up. It was against Kenny’s procedure for him to move so suddenly, but that was the least of his worries right now. With unfocused, clumsy hands, Kyle opened the juice pouch, avoiding eye contact, “Nothing. You’re such a mama bear.”

“Damn straight I’m mama bear. And I’m gonna maul somebody if you don’t explain what’s going on.”

Kyle idly rolled his eyes, the mere action of it seeming to drain his energy even more, “You’re adorable, Kenny.”

“Kyle, come on. Please tell me what’s up, I really wanna help.”

“This isn’t anything you need to help, we’re fine.”

“No, Kyle, something’s  _ really _ wrong,” Kenny insisted, “I’ve been havin’ these bad feelings for days now, but I thought I was just kidding myself.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, “Seriously? You’ve had bad thoughts about us?”

“That’s not what I meant, just-” Kenny scrambled to find the right words, “I don’t know, y’all ‘ve just been weird lately. Like, you’re on edge all the time.”

“When am I never on edge?”

“Okay. Point taken. But Stan, he’s like- he was acting weird at your apartment the other day, and like, I think he’s over-exercising or something. Not to mention, the fuckin’  _ marks _ on his face.”

Kyle winced.

Kenny regretted it instantly, seeing the way Kyle reacted when the words left his mouth.   
But at the same time, Kenny knew he couldn’t back down now. He needed to keep pursuing until he got some answers.

“The, um,” Kenny’s voice was wavering, “The scratches on his face. Is he okay?”

“Shut up,” Kyle said softly, way too softly for his usual snappy back-talk.

“Where’d they come from? They looked like they were from-”

“-Shut up...” Kyle pleaded even softer.

“Why shut up?”

“Ken, don’t-”

He leaned forward on the bench, bringing his face unfamiliarly close to Kyle’s, “No, seriously. Why shut up? You and Stan are my best friends in the world, for shit’s sake, we tell each other everything. Why would you want me to butt out of this?”

Kyle looked like he was going to vomit, “God, Kenny, don’t be like that. You know I trust you with everything I’ve got.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

Kyle bared his teeth, “I just promised Stan I wouldn’t tell, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Goddamn it, Kenny, you’re acting like a child!” Kyle exclaimed, covering his face with his hands, “Why do you need to know?!”

“Oh shut up, Kyle, you know why I need to know!” Kenny shouted back.

Kyle held his face in his hands for a while, his brow creasing. For a moment or two, Kenny actually thought Kyle had passed out again, since he was so quiet and still. But then Kyle took a sharp inhale and pulled his hands away, turning to Kenny with tense compliance.

“If I could tell you, I would,” Kyle stated ominously, his voice much deeper than its norm, “But Stan, he-... But I just can’t, okay?”

“Just because you told Stan you wouldn’t tell?”

“No, because I  _ promised _ him I wouldn’t tell,” he seethed, “I’m not breaking a promise I made to him. I love you, Ken, really, but I’m not going to betray him.”

“Fuck you and your moral ethics,” Kenny muttered under his breath, though they both knew he didn’t mean it.

Kyle bit his lower lip, “Um. Thank you f-for understanding, Kenny, I-”

“-No,” Kenny sighed, “No, I don’t understand. I don’t understand what the fuck is going on between the two of you and it’s pissing me the fuck off-”

“-Ken-”

“-Stan gets his face attacked by something, ‘n then he fuckin’ forces you to run until you pass out. I don’t understand it. None of this is okay.”

“And we realize that,” Kyle bit back, the assurance in his voice catching Kenny off guard.   
“We know we’re between a rock and a hard place right now, okay?” Kyle evened out, alleviating in his reasoning, “We’re just working through some things. We’re going to be fine.”

Kenny gave a tense sigh, slouching on the bench, “How can you be so sure? I- I don’t like any of this, Kylie…”

The use of the pet-name struck a chord with Kyle, and he glanced down for a second, noticeably ashamed of himself. He took a deep breath, thinking carefully of every word he used as he pursued, “This-... Ken, this is just a small bump in the road. This is going to pass. Trust me on this, we’re going to be okay. When have you ever known me and Stan to not pull through something?”

Kenny grumbled to himself, hating to accept that Kyle’s words rang true. Kyle always fought until he came out on top, and Stan was always by his side no matter what. There was nothing they couldn’t face together.

Kenny drew his arms around himself as he sat on the bench. He didn’t know the sole reason why he was folding into himself, whether it was out of anxiety, frustration, fear, or some combination of all human emotions.

He just felt helpless in this whole situation. He wanted to help. All he ever wanted to do was help his friends, and protect them, and tell them that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t this time, because Stan and Kyle were turning him into a third wheel.

The third wheel. He had never been the third wheel before; he hated it.

He remembered clearly the day Stan and Kyle announced they were dating. Kenny had not been surprised in the slightest, he saw it coming years ago. If anything he was only surprised it had taken so long for them to make it official. The announcement came at their lunch table, on a day that Cartman was absent from school. Kenny had been eating the school-funded slop when Stan broke the news.

“Oh, by the way, Kyle and I are dating now,” he had said.

Stan had spoken so casually, as if he had been talking about the weather.

Kyle, who had been sitting to his right, just nodded and went on eating his lunch.

Kenny had reacted the same way. He had shrugged and said, “Cool.”

It went unspoken for the three of them that their friendship wasn’t going to change. That’s what Kenny always thought when he reflected on that day, and how especially unaltered their kinship was afterwards. They still spent time together in groups, and they still shared everything with each other. Kenny was never pushed to the side, not even when Stan and Kyle moved in with each other as adults, because they spent almost every weekend together.

But now, all of a sudden, they were flicking him away like a tick on their shoulders.

Kenny hugged himself tighter at the thought of it, “Jesus Christ…”

Kyle placed a timid hand on his shoulder, “Oh, Ken. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“‘m sorry, I just-... I just feel like there’s something really wrong. Like-... Like women’s intuition, or something...”

Kyle offered a light smile at Kenny’s joke, “Wonderful, Kenny. Just- Just wonderful. And I think I thought of a compromise for your womanly insight, if you’d like to hear it.”

“Sure,” Kenny sniffed, wiping his nose.

“I just want you to let us off the hook this one time, okay? If- I don’t know, if something else  _ happens _ down the road, and you feel like you really need to help, I give you permission to step in and be mama bear.”

“Wait… seriously?” Kenny felt his breath hitch, “You think something’s gonna happen between you and Stan? What kinda ‘something’ are we talkin’ about here? Like, like something bad?”

“I’m not saying that,” Kyle quickly backtracked, “I don’t think anything will happen at all. I’m only saying  _ if.  _ If anything happens, you can intervene and do as you’d like. Just let the two of us walk away, question-free, this one time. Can you do that for me?”

“Oh no, Kyle…”

“Can you do that for me?”

Kenny felt like he was selling half of his soul when he surrendered, “Okay…”

Kyle nodded to himself, the green of his eyes taking upon a newfound softness. He gave Kenny a one-armed hug as they sat beside each other on the bench, pressing his side against Kenny’s, resting his head on his shoulder.

Kenny leaned into his touch. He still kept his arms around himself, like he was trying to hold himself together with his arms alone, as nestled into Kyle’s embrace. He could feel their sides touching and the warmth that came with it, the cradling miraculously calming after such a tense briefing.

Even with Kyle’s friendly assurance, Kenny was far from comforted. His nerves were still spiking beneath his veins. His suspicions, varying from all levels of what was considered logical, were on the rise. Kenny was starting to question things about his best friends’ relationship that he never would have dared to question before, and he didn’t like the theories his rather dark imagination had to offer him.

Nothing about this situation made him feel okay. He felt dirty, icky. He felt like he had just swum in a pool of slop and slime with grime squeezing in his gut.

The worst part about all of this was that he still didn’t know what was going on. He was still just the outsider looking in from the windows, completely oblivious to the life that lied inside.

At least now he had permission to step in if he felt like it was needed. He now carried that tool under his belt, but he really didn’t want to use it. The permission Kyle gave him was like Old Man McCormick’s rifle that Kenny kept locked up in the attic. He hoped and prayed he would never have to use it, but he knew damn well if circumstances ever became dire enough, he rightfully would.

Kenny swallowed, “So, uh, you… You feeling better?”

“Hm?” Kyle must have been deep in thought, too. He blinked a few times before understanding, “Oh. Oh, yeah. I’m good. Just not a very good runner. I’ll get better at it if I try hard enough.”

“Don’t. Just don’t push, Kylie. And don’t let Stan push you,” Kenny rehashed vaguely.

Kyle sipped from his juice pouch, probably just to give himself an excuse to not reply.

If that were the case, Kenny didn’t mind. He didn’t really feel like talking anymore either.

After twenty minutes of resting, nibbling on snacks, and drinking juice and water, Kenny helped Kyle out of the employee’s room. He offered him a ride to the hospital, but both he and Stan declined, insisting he would be fine. Kenny then volunteered to drive them to their apartment, but again, they said no. Kenny was supposed to be working, after all, and they had already stolen much of his time.

Kenny didn’t say out loud that he would gladly give all his time to them, work hours or no, to make sure they were okay.

But he made an agreement to Kyle. He had to allow them this free-pass.

It was hard to say from where Kenny stood if they even deserved their freebie.   
He could see that Stan was obsessive in his apologies, borderline pathetic as he begged forgiveness. Kenny couldn’t hear them from where he was, but it seemed as though Kyle forgave him. They left the gym together on what looked like a light note. Albeit, Kyle was walking too slowly and Stan was watching him like a hawk, but nonetheless, they left hand in hand as if everything was okay.

But Kenny knew bad acting when he saw it. They weren’t okay.


	5. Chapter 5

It was storming again that night. Thunderstorms had been frequent lately, and the forecast warned that only more were to come in the next several weeks.

Kyle took that piece of information bitterly.

It wasn’t that he had a distaste for the weather itself, because quite frankly, he enjoyed storms. He liked sitting at his bedroom window early in the morning, watching tree limbs snap and sway in the wind, rain cascading down in picturesque streaks, with a cup of coffee in his hands to keep him warm and dry unlike the scene just beyond the glass.

Taking the time to observe nature was something he never cared for as a kid, he was much too enthralled by gizmos and toys of technology. Learning to appreciate the real world outside him was something that Stan taught him. It was a lesson Kyle valued far more than any of his college instructions, because Stan was the one who taught it to him.

Stan. With his aggressive political correctness and his strict health regime, it was easy to forget that he was a total heartthrob. He loved kids. He loved animals. He loved the outdoors.

In fact, that’s where he was right now: outdoors. And that’s the reason why Kyle was bitter.

It was storming, practically hailing, and had been for hours, yet Stan insisted on going out. Kyle hadn’t bothered asking why, because he had to assume Stan was either hitting the bar with his dude friends or going on a run, and Kyle wasn’t in the mood to join him for either option.

If Stan was running right now, Kyle was going to kill him.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back against the sofa.

Or maybe not. He wasn’t in the mood to lock horns with Stan again. He hadn’t been in the mood for much of anything since his fainting, and neither had Stan. They had been in a tense state of alienation, keeping their distance and making only small talk when necessary for almost two days now. Stan had apologized for what happened as they left the gym that night, but then he just shut himself up.

Which was odd, to put it bluntly, because Kyle had expected more from him. He really had imagined that Stan would smother him with countless apologies and then pamper him endlessly for days on end.

Did that make Kyle pretentious to assume he deserved so much?

He ducked his head guiltily at the thought of it, the book in his hands folding at the movement.

He didn’t mean to be so self-indulgent in his imagination, and he certainly didn’t mean to give himself the impression that Stan had done anything wrong, because he hadn’t. It was honestly pretty stupid to think Kyle deserved that kind of attention after all he did was faint. It was his own fault, really, because of his weak lungs and chicken legs. Kyle didn’t need to be mad at Stan for that. He was only trying to help Kyle, after all.

The only reason he needed to be mad at Stan was because he was out of the house right now, in the middle of a storm. He hadn’t taken his phone with him, he hadn’t said where he was going, and he hadn’t said when he would be back.

It was then that Kyle realized he let his thoughts distract him from his reading, and he had no idea where he was in his book.

“Crap,” he muttered, inserting a bookmark and setting his book to the side.

He reclined back against the sofa, stretching his arms above his head, the fabric of his shirt inching up his midsection. Then he released the stretch, blowing air out of his lips listlessly.

Was it pathetic to just sit here and wait for his boyfriend to come home? He didn’t know, but he didn’t care, he just wanted Stan right now. He had a long, long day; he nearly flunked that test Stan didn’t let him study for, and his boss at the bookstore yelled at him in front of the customers because he rang up an order incorrectly. He just wanted Stan to come home and comfort him, as commiserable as that may be.

Kyle felt a sudden chill, shuddering a little.

He frowned at the cold, standing from the couch to fetch himself something warm to drink. He knew Stan would condescend him for grazing off-schedule, but he figured that having something sugary to drink would be a nice passive-aggressive way to get back at Stan after he ran off.

On his way to the kitchen, Kyle stumbled over something and nearly fell down.

He caught himself in time, rolling his eyes when he realized he nearly tripped over Stan’s yoga mat.

“Stan…” he muttered fondly, an exhausted smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite the  _ numerous _ times Kyle told him to put his things away when he was done using them, Stan always seemed to leave his knick knacks for the gym out in the middle of the floor.

After putting the yoga mat away in the closet, Kyle made himself a cup of tea, adding a spoonful honey to soothe his throat.

He raised the mug to his lips, about to take a sip, but then the front door opened, and Stan entered the apartment.

His clothes were soaked all the way through, dripping buckets of water on the newly polished tile. He saw Kyle from the kitchen and gave him a goofy smile, entirely oblivious to the mess he was making on the floor.

Kyle couldn’t let himself be bothered by the spillage he would have to clean up. He couldn’t even raise his gaze to meet Stan’s either, because his focus was wholly fixated on the brown and white lump in Stan’s arms.

“Oh my God,” Kyle was breathless.

Stan smiled, “I got you a present!”

“You got me a dog.”

Stan’s coffee-colored eyes lit up like fireworks, his smile endearingly bashful as he cheered, “Isn’t she the sweetest thing? I got ‘er just for you!”

The baby spaniel-mutt in Stan’s arms yipped and squirmed around in her hold. She was teething on the sleeve of his coat with her undersized, pointed canines, kicking her feet into his chest. The puppy’s black eyes were alive with playful coyness, and Stan looked just as excited as she did.

“Hey, Kyle,” he said soothingly, radiant happiness emanating off his gentle tone, “I’m real sorry things got a little weird between us. I wanted to make it up to you. I guess the reason why I haven’t really been talking to you for a day or so was ‘cause I was worried I would spoil the surprise. You know I can’t keep secrets for long. And I really, really wanted to surprise you. ‘cause you deserve it, Kyle. I love you so much.”

“So... you got me a dog,” Kyle swallowed. His throat was dry, but he forgot all about the honey tea in his hands.

Stan took the puppy’s paw in his hands and waved it at Kyle, “Say hi to Ky, sweetheart!”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Kyle inattentively started to shake his head.

“What’s up, babe?”

“You just- You just bought a dog, Stan?” Kyle asked, “You just went out in the middle of a storm, no car, no phone, and you went and bought a dog?”

“A puppy,” Stan’s smile was still as bright as the sun. He was so happy that he looked like he could cry.

“Why?”

“‘cause I love you.”

Kyle set his tea down on the counter, and went to the back of the kitchen to grab his phone. He unlocked it and dialed a number, pressing the phone to his ear while Stan filed in through the apartment, trailing rainwater everywhere behind him.

“Who’re you calling, babe?” Stan asked, dropping his muddy shoes to the floor, still fondly holding the puppy in his arms.

“The landlord.”

Stan’s smile faltered, “Why? It’s pretty late at night, you know.”

“Because now he’s going to raise our rent.”

Stan set the puppy down on the couch. She curled up on a pillow, naively oblivious to the tension picking up in the air.

No one answered the phone call, and the line went dead in Kyle’s ears. He narrowed his eyes at the white and brown creature, not resenting the puppy herself, but starting to hate everything that came with her in the fine print.

“Goddamn, Stan,” he accidentally muttered aloud, “Our rent’s going to go through the roof now, especially when it gets big.”

“Hey, don’t call her ‘it,’” Stan said, “This dog is a living creature, okay? She’s a  _ she.” _

Kyle wasn’t even listening. He was overwhelming himself, “Oh God, not to mention, we have to pay for food and toys. And insurance. Dogs need insurance, right? That’s, like, what? That’s got to be fifty dollars a month? At least? I don’t even know, I’ve never owned a- And now we have to carve out time for walking it-”

“Jesus Christ, Kyle. Calm down. Calm down, okay? I just wanted to show you how much I love y-”

“-Oh God, Stan, I’ve never even owned a  _ fish _ before, what am I supposed to do with a dog? How much money did it even cost for you to-”

-It happened so quickly it nearly gave Kyle whiplash.   
In the briefest of moments, Stan’s face warped into an angry scowl. He picked up one of his shoes and hurled it at the wall. It collided with a  _ boom _ much too loud for such a small object, and fell to the floor, leaving mud and slop to trudge down the wallpaper.

The shoe wasn’t thrown anywhere near Kyle, but he still flinched, backing up into the counter and bruising his hip.

“Stan!” he exclaimed, wincing at the sudden pain, “What the hell?!”

Stan was fuming, “Why don’t you appreciate anything I do for you?!”

In an instant, Kyle was equally enraged.   
He had a naturally short temper, and normally it got him into trouble. There were too many times he broke out into speeches of rebuke when all he really needed to do was walk away and take a breather. But it was times like these that Kyle didn’t regret his temper in the slightest. He could fire at will at any given moment. And with the drying of his throat and the bruising of his hip, Kyle only felt angrier.

“Stan, you’d better explain yourself!” he bit fiercely.

“Why do you have to whine about everything, Kyle, why?” Stan demanded, “Is it because you like the attention it gives you? Because I can give you attention if all you want is attention! Hell, I can give you the whole world if you ask for it! I can give you anything you want, but you’d still find a reason to complain about it, or how much it  _ costs.” _

Kyle scoffed, “Well, excuse me for wanting to save us from poverty.”

“We’re not poor!”

“We’re going to be!”

“Drop it, Kyle!”

“No, Stan, we are legitimately going to be poor if you keep acting like money grows on trees! How did you even pay for that dog, Stan? What card did you use?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It actually sort of does, Stan, what card did you use? You didn’t use cash did you?!”

“Jesus  _ Christ, _ Kyle!” Stan screamed, “Not everything is about money! Fuck me for thinking someone of your heritage would understand that!”

Kyle flinched.

Stan’s jaw dropped the second the words left him. He actually brought his hands to cover his mouth in terrified stupor.

“Shit,” he muttered under his fingers, “Oh my God, Kyle, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that at all. Holy shit. You know I would never- Oh shit, Kyle I would never say that. I don’t think that at all, not in the slightest, I don’t know why I would-”

The puppy barked innocently on the couch, waving her tiny tail in cheerfulness. She looked at Stan like she wanted to play, getting ready to paw at him.

But Stan just looked like he wanted to cry, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Kyle, I have no idea why I would even-... I didn’t mean that at all.”

Kyle knew he was telling the truth. 

He knew Stan didn’t mean it. Stan had always been the one to defend his Jewish heritage in their childhood, and continued to do so throughout their adulthood. Hell, just last week, Stan had suggested that they didn’t throw Kenny that party at all, so that he and Kyle could have sabbath dinner that Friday night. Stan had been the one to suggest that, and he still goes to church a few times a month. Kyle couldn’t for the life of him understand why Stan of all people would say something Anti-Semitic, but he knew he didn’t mean it.

By whatever uncanny black magic it was, Kyle’s anger died.

He wasn’t angry, he was only stunned. He felt like his irate verve was sucked right out of him, his stamina and spirit stripped, leaving him weak and confused.

He felt numb, too numb to even find words.

Instead of raging into a fit and scathing Stan with everything he deserved for letting those words tarnish their household, Kyle crumpled back against the kitchen counter, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, his phone falling from his hands, dropping to the tile.

Stan got down on his hands and knees, meekly crawling to Kyle’s side.

“Kyle, I’m so sorry,” his eyes were watering, “I have no idea why I said that. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“No, I know,” Kyle said, his voice gravelly.

Stan looked at Kyle like he was staring at a ghost, “You’re not- You’re not mad?”

“No,” Kyle replied, stunned by his lack of ire, “I- I think I should be, but I-”

“-You should be. I deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve it, Stan…”

“I do. I do. I have no idea why I said that,” Stan started to cry now, leaning his head against the wood of the kitchen cabinets defeatedly.

“I know you didn’t mean it. People- We say things we don’t mean sometimes. When we’re sad or angry. It- You didn’t mean it.”

Stan tried covering his mouth with his hand, but it did nothing for him, because his sobs still escaped from beneath his fingers.

“Stan-” Kyle didn’t have the strength to pity him, he just felt so  _ numb. _

“-Don’t tell me ‘it’s okay,’” Stan sobbed, “What I said was not okay!”

“I was just going to tell you not to cry.”

Stan sniveled, wiping at his face with his sleeves. His coat was still soaking wet, so he was only making it worse. He nodded slowly, sniffling, putting in an effort to control himself for Kyle’s sake.   
He threw a halfhearted gesture towards the shoe-print on the wall, “I can- um, I can clean that up for you.”

“Do,” Kyle said dryly. He coughed at the itchiness at the back of his throat. Had his voice always been so raspy and weak?

“Kyle, I’m really sorry,” Stan shuddered, but he didn’t cry again.

“I know. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I hurt you, though…”

Kyle shook his head, the weight of it massive on his shoulders, “No, no you didn’t. It’s fine.”

“I’m-” Stan held back another sob, “-I’m sorry about the gym. I shouldn’t’ve pushed you. And, and I’m sorry about the puppy…”

“Don’t apologize for the dog.”

Stan tilted his head.

Kyle gave a weak shrug, his arms weighing a hundred pounds, “It’s our responsibility now. There’s no going back on that.”

“I can take her back-”

“-Don’t,” Kyle gave a sad smile, “I know it’d break your heart. You don’t need to.”

Stan looked like he was sent to cloud nine, tears still lingering in the depths of his coffee-colored eyes now radiant with hope, “You’re too good for me, Ky. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, Kyle, I love you so, so much.”

Kyle didn’t respond to that directly. Instead, he asked, “Could you bring it-  _ her-...  _ Could you bring her here?”

Stan was momentarily surprised by his request. He left the kitchen and returned shortly afterwards, holding the baby dog in his dripping arms. He sat down beside Kyle, wordlessly offering him the little ball of fluff.

The puppy, sensing his distress, turned away from Kyle and went to lick the tear-stained cheeks of Stan’s face.

“No!” Stan laughed in surprise, “No! Kiss Kyle, not me! Kiss Kyle!”

Kyle lacked the strength to laugh, but a fraction of a smile found its way to his face, eyeing the innocent creature he now had the responsibility of raising.

“She’s pretty,” Kyle muttered halfheartedly.

“She’s beautiful. Especially for a mutt,” Stan nuzzled his nose with the puppy’s.

“What’s its name? Her, sorry.”

“Well, I bought her for you. I was waiting for you to name her.”   
He shifted on one knee, bringing the puppy closer to Kyle, “Here, want to pet her?”

Kyle pressed back up against the cabinets, shaking his head no.   
He really meant it when he said he had never owned a fish before. A dog was going to take some getting used to.

Through his numbness, Kyle could tell he was already developing a gossamery fondness for the small creature. She had these huge, gaping black eyes that were so innocent and childlike that it made his heart melt, even while his body felt deadened without reservation.

His throat twitched as he looked at the naive puppy, all of a sudden feeling remorseful; the puppy reminded him of someone.

“I think I want to name her Maple…” he said, his voice cracking.

Stan softened the instant Kyle did, watching him sadden, “Kyle, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I- I guess I was just thinking of my brother,” he sniffed.

“You’re naming your dog in honor of Ike?”

“I miss him.”

“... Oh. Oh, baby...”

“I miss my mom.”

Kyle finally broke into tears, his lax body jolting at the sudden sob. He curled into his knees, hugging himself as he cried.

Stan set Maple aside to embrace him, holding him gently with mediated care.

Stan was speaking, murmuring words of soft assurance most likely, but Kyle could barely hear him over his sobs. He could feel Stan’s arms but they didn’t settle him, they only made Kyle cry more passionately. He wept with a vehemence he didn’t know he could muster, his entire body wracked with bawling, his vision a blur behind the frenzied tears consuming his sight. He wailed until his lungs ached, but even then, he couldn’t stop the waterworks. 

He could scarcely remember the last time he cried so hard. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he cried at all. Kyle barely ever cried; he was far more prone to going ballistic than he was shedding a tear.

Stan, on the other hand, was a frequent crier. He cried when he stubbed his toe or when he heard a bittersweet story on the news.   
But he wasn’t crying now. He held himself together for Kyle, holding him sweetly, acting as his anchor. The puppy at his ankles was jealous of the attention, but neither Stan nor Kyle even noticed her.

Stan was soaking wet and terribly cold. His clothes were dampening Kyle’s shirt, making his backside slick with chilled rainwater, while his face was moist with hot tears.

Stan kissed the top of Kyle’s head, “Hey, now. I’m sorry, Kyle, it’s okay. Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Do you want to visit your dad at the senior home soon?”

Kyle nodded through his sobs, his throat opening and closing uncontrollably. He shuddered in Stan’s arms, mortified by the desperate choking sounds he was making. He could feel himself start to hyperventilate, and it was making him even more embarrassed.

Maple whined in the background.

Stan ignored her, “Okay, we can go soon. Tomorrow, even. If the weather’s good.”

He kissed him again, then again, and again, and again, until Kyle’s crying became too much for the both of them to bear.

They smelled it before they saw it.  
Maple pissed over the kitchen tile- the tile that Kyle worked so hard to clean only hours ago.

Stan blanched, “Oh. Um… should I-?”

Kyle was past the point of words.

Stan took a hint. He left his side to pick up after Maple. His departure took away the tiny bit of warmth Kyle had left, leaving him cold and wet against the kitchen cabinets.

As he cried, he watched Stan clean up. His strong hands were untrained with paper towels and bleach, and his attention was divided by the puppy teething on his pants leg. For some reason, the sight of it only made Kyle cry harder, but the sound of his sobs was drowned out by the rainstorm thundering down outside.


	6. Chapter 6

“Do you even lift, bro?” Kenny teased, peeking over the top of the dog kennel in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his friend.

“Vine is dead, Kenny,” Stan retorted. He walked backwards as he carried his end of the kennel, while Kenny walked forwards manning the other side. It wasn’t particularly heavy, it was just large and difficult to maneuver. Taking it to Stan and Kyle’s apartment was a two-man job.

Kenny was like a State-Farm employee, like a good neighbor. He was ready to help the second Stan had asked for him.

He was supposed to be sleeping at ten o’clock that morning, but found himself on his Gameboy— the same one he had owned since he was eight years old. He was having an absolute blast on Animal Crossing when he had received a text from Stan:   
**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ Hey are you free? Can you come over? _

At the time, Kenny didn’t know what to take away from the text. It was ambiguous, and after what happened in the gym a few days ago, it was slightly concerning.

When he replied, Kenny cut right to the chase. He was so quick he didn’t have time to laugh at the username Stan gave him:  
**Parka dude:** _whats wrong? do you need helpL whats goinn on?_

He couldn’t describe the relief he felt when Stan sent back:  
**Stannyboyyyyy:** _No dude chill out. Ky’s just about to leave and I need some help moving things. That’s it_

He was calm now, but he still wanted to mess with Stan a little:   
**Parka dude:** _ ur moving????? Kylie’s leaving yuo???????? _

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ NO CHILL OUT _

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ We just got a dog. We need to buy a lot of new stuff and it can’t all fit in our tiny car. I was hoping you could help us with your truck? _ _  
_ _ Also Ky’s not leaving me. He’s going to visit his dad soon so he can’t help. Can you? _

**Parka dude:** _bet. Karen wants to come_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ she doesn’t have school? _

**Parka dude:** _its Sunday my dude_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ oh sorry. I’ve been losing track of time. Sure she can come _

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ if you come quick you can see Kyle before he leaves _

For some reason, that last text ignited something in Kenny. It struck him like fingers snapping in his face, demanding him to pay attention, urging him to get up on his feet and move. And that’s exactly what he did. He moved so fast he was practically running to and fro around his two-story house, sporadically collecting his keys, shoes, and Karen, before bustling to his truck.

It was an enigma how that text alone enkindled such a fire within him. Maybe he just never realized just how badly he wanted to see Kyle before.

“We can put it down here,” Stan instructed.

He and Kenny set the kennel down on the hardwood flooring near the far wall of the living room. When Kenny’s arms were free, he stretched them far above his head.

Stan eyed him peculiarly, “You’re not sore, are you?”

“Hell no,” Kenny shook his arms down to his sides, “You ain’t the only muscle-man in the world, Stanny. Hate to break it to you.”

Stan just scoffed, “Sure, sure.”

They had done it. Three hours of shopping, transporting, and delivering astronomical amounts of dog supplies were finally complete. Kenny could barely wrap his mind around the fact that one tiny puppy required so many things. It was appalling.

The dog itself, Maple, had been sleeping on the sofa the entire time Kenny and Stan worked, like some kind of queen overseeing her servants.

Kenny went over to the puppy and stroked its forehead, “He’s a pretty cute scamp. What kinda dog is he?”

_ “She,” _ Stan corrected, placing a house-training pad in the corner of the room, “And I don’t really know. A mutt of some kind. She’s got some spaniel in her, I think, but she’s a mix all the same. I knew Ky would freak if I brought home a pure-bred, worrying about money or something, so I just picked her up at the local pound.”

“Oh, Stanny-boy. You ain’t fooling me,” Kenny bent to scratch between the puppy’s ears, “If you ‘n Kyle planned for a dog, he would’ve gotten everything all organized. He woulda done, like, three months worth of planning and researching to sort out all the money, and find the exact breed he wanted. There’s no way in hell you just scooped up a scamp by chance, knowin’ how he is.”

Stan nervously giggled.

Kenny’s jaw dropped, “Woah. Woah, holdup. You just picked up a dog out of the blue?”

Stan gave a meek smile.

“Woah, dude!” Kenny laughed, “And I thought  _ I  _ was impulsive!”

Stan gathered the brown and white ball of fur from the sofa and cradled her in his arms, tenderly stroking down her backside. He sat down next to Kenny, but didn’t meet his gaze, “She wasn’t an impulse purchase. I bought her for Kyle. As a gift.”

“Oh. Kinda an expensive gift,” Kenny sucked his teeth, “How’d he take it?”

“Not that good, to be honest,” Stan said guiltily, his shoulders drooping, “Kinda the reason why he put me on dog duty today while he’s out visiting his dad. I totally deserve it, though.”

Apprehension flooded Kenny’s chest, watching Stan cave in. He looked remorseful, far more remorseful than he had after his mistake in the gym, and that made Kenny gnaw his bottom lip with worry.

But before he could question further, Stan went on, his voice low, “I think it was another one of those things where-... how do I word this? You know, you’re upset about one thing, but you pretend you’re upset about something else. Do you know what I mean? I think it was that again. I don’t think he’s upset about the puppy.”

“Whaddya think he’s upset about?”

“Well… Either his mom or me,” Stan said ominously.

The “or me” sent a chill up Kenny’s spine, making him shudder.

Stan noticed him quivering, “Hey, are you cold? I think something’s wrong with our heater. Kyle’s been shivering a lot, too.”

“I dunno. I mean, it’s a little cold, I guess. Not really.”   
“I’ll be sure to get the heater fixed,” Stan stood from the couch and went to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Kenny, can I get you something to eat or drink? It’s two in the afternoon. This is usually when I have my snack. You want anything?”

“Whatever,” Kenny waved his hand.   
He let his gaze drift to the clock on the wall, “Hey, when dya think Ky and Kar will get back?”

When Kenny and Karen had arrived at the apartment, Kyle was walking out the door. He had a day-pack slung over his shoulder and keys in his hands, but he backtracked and allowed the McCormicks in. Their conversation was quick, because Kyle wanted to welcome them, but he really had to leave. Then Karen asked where he was going, he told her to visit his dad, and she asked to join him.

It was a bit of an odd circumstance, Kenny had to admit. His little sister asked his best friend to visit his elderly father, who she had never met before. But Kenny smiled at the thought of it. He knew Karen just really liked to make new friends, no matter the person. (In fact, one of her best friends was the old Greek man who worked at the grocery store; the man barely spoke a word of English and had to be at  _ least _ ninety years old. They had been exchanging letters twice a week for three years now. He was the guest of honor at her sweet sixteen birthday party.) Karen was just astounding like that.

Kenny also had an inkling of a suspicion that she was planning to paint Kyle’s nails again, and he was doubtless that that had something to do with her offer to go with him. Another smile-inducing thought.

Stan opened the fridge, calling over his shoulder, “I’m not sure, dude. It’s sort of a long commute to where his dad’s staying, and Kyle likes to visit for at least an hour before he leaves, so I can’t really say.”

“Ah,” Kenny nodded as he went back to petting Maple, “How’re your folks, by the way, dude?”

“Same old, same old,” Stan drawled, “Mom’s still living her best life retired in Florida. She goes to Disney World with her old lady friends, like, every weekend.”

“Dude, that’s fire! Good for her. And your pa?”

“Haven’t heard from him in months. I don’t really care, though. At least he’s finally out of my mom’s life. That’s good enough for me.”

“Your pa’s always been an asshole.”

“And he always will be,” Stan scoffed, “But don’t be the pot calling the kettle black, Kenny. Your dad was worse than mine.”

“Ain’t that the truth. May the devil be merciless on his stupid-ass soul,” Kenny raised an imaginary wineglass in toast.

Stan tipped an imaginary glass in return. They pretended to sip from them, and then went back to what they were doing.

“How’s your mom, by the way? Is she out yet?” Stan asked.

“She’s still got two more years behind bars. Karen can’t wait to see ‘er again, but I ain’t so sure how I feel just yet.”

“Hey, you and Kyle are sort of in the same boat, in a way. With your parental situations, I mean. That’s kind of cool.”

“What?”

“You know, with one parent dea-  _ passed on, _ I mean, excuse me, and the other parent, you know, in a facility?” Stan shook his head, “Sorry, that was stupid. I thought I knew what I was saying, but I guess I just- Just thought it was a cool coincidence, but I guess it’s not much of an observation at all.”

“His pa’s in prison?!”

“What? Oh, no! No, no, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Gerald’s in a senior home. I’m sorry. Like I said, that was stupid of me.”

Kenny pulled a face of surprise, “I didn’t know his pa was old enough to be put in a home.”

Stan shrugged, still peering into the refrigerator, “Kyle’s parents started late. I mean, Gerald was, like, already in his forties or fifties when Kyle was born. I think that’s part of the reason why they adopted Ike. And it might be part of the reason why Ky’s immune system is so sucky, too.”

Kenny couldn’t understand that if he tried. His own folks had both been sixteen when they had their first child—Kenny’s deadbeat older brother, who was also imprisoned. Sixteen. That’s how old Karen was now. He tried to imagine Karen having a baby but the thought of it was too horrible for him to handle.

It made him shudder.

Stan saw him shivering again, “I swear something’s wrong with our heater. You and Kyle shiver like leaves whenever you’re in here.”

“I don’t know if it’s broken, but if it is, you’d better patch it up quick, man,” Kenny warned, “I heard storms are gonna get real bad later this week. Far worse than last night. Last night was just thunder and rain. Late this week is gonna be, like, black ice, sleet, thunder, probably a fuckin’ tornado.”

Stan frowned from the kitchen, condescendingly looking through the open wall into the living room, where the floor was littered in dog toys, sacks of feed, and haphazard cardboard boxes. He sighed and muttered, “It looks like a tornado ripped through here. Kyle’s going to flip.”

“Eh, we can take the load off for ‘im. We can clean up. Won’t be hard,” Kenny said.

He looked around the living room, not just at the mess but at the room itself. He looked at the recycled furniture and the organized bookshelf, thinking about how Kyle probably spent hours sorting through all his books, either dividing them categorically or alphabetically, particularly scrutinizing every detail of his organization. He thought about Kyle having to stand up on the tips of his toes to reach a book from the top shelf, refusing to let anyone help him. Just the thought of it made Kenny’s heart melt, though he didn’t really know why.

His smile withered on his face when he noticed a peculiar stain on the wallpaper.

It was impossible to imagine that Kenny hadn’t noticed it until now; the stain was an absolute eyesore. It was a dark shade of mahogany, and it was even darker around the edges. It was shaped like an explosion. A long trail of sludge trailed down from the middle, making the mystery substance look like it was still wet, when really it was dry and caking against the wallpaper.

It was scarily out of place. The stain itself held no malice, of course, because it was merely a stain. But something about its unsettling shape and baneful color made goosebumps break out on Kenny’s arms.

He held himself back from shuddering so Stan wouldn’t address it.

He rose from the couch. Maple didn’t notice him; it looked like she was napping.

Unannounced, he slipped into the kitchen. He leaned back against the doorframe, watching Stan move around the kitchen to construct some kind of high-protein, low-carb snack.

“Hey, Stanny-boy,” Kenny lipped.

“Sup, Kenneth,” Stan replied, not even looking up from the tofu cubes he was portioning.

“So, like, what’s up with your wall, dude?” he asked casually. His anxiety was perfectly shadowed behind his calm demeanour. He could only thank years of practice that he was so good at acting.

“Oh, that,” Stan hesitated for only a second, “Yeah, I told Kyle I was going to clean that up for him. I guess I got distracted.”

“It doesn’t look like a water stain,” Kenny pressed on.

“It’s just mud.”

Kenny feigned merriment, “Woah, now! How’d mud get on your fuckin’ wall, dude? Did y’all mud-wrestle or something?”

“Very funny,” Stan flicked his tongue nervously.

It was quick, but Kenny saw it. He could read people like a book. Whether it was due to being an actor or just being a humanitarian, he knew body language; he knew he was making Stan nervous.

Even though Kenny was practically drowning in suspicion, he didn’t want Stan to think he was. The last thing he wanted was for Stan to shut down or get defensive.

Kenny playfully picked up a cube of tofu from Stan’s cutting board and popped it in his mouth, winking at Stan as he did.

“I haven’t cooked that yet, you know,” Stan tilted his head.

“Oh shit,” Kenny said with his mouth full, “Is that dangerous? Am I gonna get salmonella?”

“No, dude. You’re fine. It’s only bean paste. It’ll just taste dull.”

Kenny coughed, chewed-up tofu still in his mouth, “You ain’t lying about that. This shit tastes awful.”

“Not my fault,” Stan chuckled to himself.

Seeing that he wasn’t nervous anymore, Kenny took the opportunity to press on, this time with even more feigned casualness. He twirled his fingers around the countertop, pretending to be bored as he asked, “So, like, how’d Kyle react when you showed up with a mother-lovin’ dog? Did he hiss a fit?”

His acting must have been pretty convincing, because Stan didn’t take offense. He simply chuckled to himself as he moved his tofu to a baking tray, “No. No he didn’t ‘hiss a fit.’ That’s a fun way to word it. I’ll have to remember that.”

“So, what happened?”

“Kyle, uh-” Stan stopped to clear his throat, “Don’t tell Kyle I told you or anything, he’d probably flip if he knew I told you, but he cried a little.”

Kenny accidentally broke character, “What?”

“Okay, a lot. He cried a lot.”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?”

“It was pretty bad, actually. His throat hurt so much when he was done crying that he couldn’t speak for, like, an entire day. His lungs hurt real bad, too. I was actually worried he was going to stop breathing in his sleep that night.”

“Kyle doesn't cry.”

“Yeah, I know. It surprised me, too. I think the last time he cried was, like, in middle school when he twisted his ankle. Even then it was only, like, two tears total,” Stan spoke calmly. He finished arranging the tofu pieces and slid the tray into the baking oven to crisp them. When he closed the oven door, he looked up, finally noticing that Kenny was uncomfortable.

He pulled a short frown, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

They were close enough to each other that Kenny could see Stan’s face. The fingernail scratches were gone now, and his face was as smooth and unmarred as ever. His skin was so radiant it looked like he had never been hurt at all. Stan could be a model, Kenny realized, with his dark complexion and envious physique. The only thing off-putting about him was the sternness in his eyes as he frowned at him.

This wasn’t right. The scratches on Stan’s face. The stain on the wall. The fainting in the gym. The idea of Kyle crying. This was not good.

Why was all of this happening just now? Had something happened between them that Kenny didn’t know about? Or, even worse, had these things been happening for a long time, and he was only picking up on the signs just now?

Not good. Not good. Not good.

A bead of sweat broke around his temple.

“Okay, now I know for sure,” Stan said, “Something’s definitely wrong with the heater. First you’re shivering, then you’re sweating. I need to get that hunk of junk fixed.”

Off in the background, there was the familiar  _ click _ of the front door opening. The delighted sound of laughter filled the room as Kyle and Karen entered, their noses and cheeks flushed with giggling. The sight of their happiness was ambrosial. With Kyle’s youthful glow, he looked like he could be one of Karen’s classmates; they entered the apartment holding hands, each of them also holding a coffee beverage. Karen was wearing Kyle’s daypack over her shoulder, the freckles on her upturned nose twinkling like glitter on her skin.

“Hey, we’re home!” Kyle called out, resting his coffee down on a coaster.

From where he stood, Kenny could see that Kyle’s nails were painted pink and rose-gold. They didn’t match his skin tone at all, but it was still an endearing sight, because Kenny knew that pink and rose-gold were Karen’s favorite colors.

Kenny could safely say that he never saw a more adorable sight in the world than his best friend and his baby sister being friends. Karen really could make a friend out of anyone.

Catching her brother’s gaze from across the room, Karen ran up to his side and greeted him with a tight hug, “Hi, Kenny!”

Kenny was still a little shaken from the apprehensive thoughts flooding his head. He could feel his heart beating irregularly and he could smell sweat starting to slick his backside. When Karen hugged him, he gave a tight smile, “Hey, sis-sissy. How was meeting Kyle’s dad?”

“Great. I love old people. He told me stories about when you and Kyle were kids and did all sorts of crazy things,” Karen giggled, “And I always thought old person stories were boring until now.”

If Kenny hadn’t been so riled up, he might have laughed. But all he could manage was a half-enthused statement, “That’s great, sis...”

“And then Kyle took me out to Harbucks afterwards! He’s so nice. He let me paint his nails while we sat at the window table.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s great, sis…”

While he and Karen had been talking, Stan had squeezed out of the kitchen to greet his boyfriend at the door. Stan and Kyle kissed each other in greeting in a completely natural, unbothered way. They looked normal, talking and murmuring things into each others’ ears. They looked  _ way _ too normal to be the same troubled young couple that Kenny was worried about.

The time had come for Kenny to put his foot down. He was done beating around the bush.

He unzipped his parka, shouldering it off to show that he meant business. He dropped it on the countertop, now wearing nothing but his trousers, combat boots, and a slick black tank top that brought out his sun-tanned muscles.

He set his strong arms akimbo, stepping forward, “Okay, you two. Party’s over. Open up. What’s the tea?”

Kyle tilted his head, “Kenny?”

“-No, no, No more pretending y’all are fine,” Kenny charged, getting unreasonably close to assert himself, “Kyle, you gave me permission to intervene if I felt like I needed to, and I fuckin’ feel like I need to.”

“What do you mean?” Stan narrowed his eyes, “Kyle, what’s he talking about?”

“Ken?” Karen stepped forward, “I don’t know what’s going on, but you told me you weren’t going to freak out anymore. You promised me-”

“-I know what I promised you!” Kenny hissed.   
He took a shuddery breath, “I ain’t freaking out, K. I’m just gonna talk to ‘em, okay? Leave us alone for a bit.”

Stan stepped forward, pressing his hand against Kenny’s arm defensively, “Kenny, I don’t know what you’re fixing to do, but you’d better-”

-Kenny jerked his arm back, “Hey, man! Don’t touch me! I ain’t done nothin’ to you!”

Karen bit her lip, her tone warning, “Kenny.”

“And I ain’t  _ gonna _ do anything! I just-” he took another shuddery breath, “-I just wanna talk. I’m worried about y’all, and I wanna talk.”

The sympathy card seemed to get the best of them. Kenny could tell by the way the tension in the air dipped that his friends were going to comply. Stan’s defensive demeanour drooped, and Kyle backed off submissively.

Karen was twisting her bangs with her fingers. It was a nervous habit of hers.

“I’ll, um- I’ll go play with the puppy,” she offered, even though she knew Maple was asleep. Nobody stopped her from running off to the living room.

But apparently even Karen’s departure didn’t give them enough space to talk. Stan and Kyle gave each other some kind of silent signal before they waved for Kenny to follow them into their bedroom.

Kenny swallowed.

He had never been in their bedroom before. He had when they were kids, certainly, too many times to count. But that was different because they were kids and they lived with their families. That was back when their bedrooms weren’t their own to begin with.

Entering their bedroom now, as an adult, Kenny felt like he was intruding on some kind of sacred temple of intimacy, a sanctuary left untouched by mankind. The bed was neatly made, and it was a lot smaller than what he would have imagined. The blinds were drawn shut, leaving the room dark and shadowed. It was scarcely decorated, almost void of life, save for a photograph hanging from the wall that pictured Stan and Kyle in their high school caps and gowns.

Something twitched in Kenny’s chest as he looked at the picture. They looked so happy. Kenny had always thought that they were happy, and would be happy forever. But now, Kenny was starting to question everything he knew about them.

“Okay, first things first.”

It wasn’t Kenny who said that, and strangely, it wasn’t Kyle either.

It was Stan. He sat at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, his disposition a combination of frustration and concern. He waited until he had both Kenny and Kyle’s attention before he went on, “Kenny, what did you mean when you said Kyle gave you permission to intervene?”

Kenny looked to the redhead first, expecting him to jump the gun and start a rant, but Kyle was holding his tongue. That was something scarily out-of-character for him, and it sent alarm bells blaring throughout Kenny’s head.

“He, um-” Kenny had to force himself to look at Stan instead of Kyle, “I’m mama bear.”

“‘Mama bear?’” Stan asked, an eyebrow poised.

“Yeah. It’s like Big Brother Mode, but serious-er.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Well, it oughtta be!” Kenny huffed, “I’m mama bear, and I’m worried, and you guys are freaking me out. Kyle and I made a deal, so you have to tell me what’s going on now.”

“A deal?”

“We sorta made a deal. I wanted to know about the scratches on your face and why you were acting so weird, dude, but Kylie was apparently sworn into secrecy.”   
He paused for effect. When Kyle still had nothing to say, Kenny went on; “And so we agreed that as long as I let y’all off the hook without questions that one time, I’d be allowed to be mama bear if I ever felt like I needed to later on.”

Stan was frowning, but not at Kenny.

He had his big, brown puppy-eyes pointed directly at Kyle. His lower lip trembled when he said, “Kyle, we said we were going to let the scratches thing go. You told me you were going to drop it and move on. I thought we agreed on that! You promised me!”

Kyle twitched, “I didn’t tell him. Honest.”

Kenny didn’t know what was scarier: the fact that Stan was yelling at Kyle or the fact that Kyle wasn’t yelling back.

“He didn’t,” he weakly clarified, “Look, Kylie didn’t tell me anything. And I respect the deal we made, and I ain’t gonna question the scratches or the gym. But outside of those two things, and those two things alone, you both have some ‘fessing up to do, ‘cause I am done worrying myself shitless for y’all.”

Stan and Kyle had their backs facing each other now. Stan sat at the foot of the bed with his legs and arms spread, like he was trying to make himself bigger, while Kyle huddled at the head of the bed, his extremities pointed inwards. They shared a brief glance between themselves, sharing some kind of silent signal that only years of practice could master.

Kenny waited patiently.

Then Stan took the reins, addressing the blonde, “Well, what is it you want to know?”

“How about the mud on the wall, for one thing?”

At Kenny’s words, Kyle’s mouth dropped. He turned on the bed waveringly, “Stan, you said you were going to clean that.”

“I haven’t gotten to it yet,” Stan hissed, “I’ve been working all day, Kyle, I just haven’t gotten to it yet.”

“Why d’ya have mud on the wall?” Kenny persisted.

“I threw my shoe.”

“I’m serious, Stan.”

“...so am I.”

Kenny recoiled, backing up until his body met the wall, “I- I don’t understand. You- You threw your shoe at K-”

“-Not  _ at Kyle. _ I just-... you know, I just threw it.”

Something twisted in Kenny’s gut as he looked at him, “That bruise on his hip begs to differ.”

“Damn it!” Kyle exclaimed, pulling his shirt down to cover the exposed skin, “No, Ken! Stan didn’t- I backed into the counter. He threw the shoe, and it made me jump, and I backed into the counter. That’s all.”

Stan’s eyes were so dark that Kenny couldn’t distinguish his pupils from his irises. He clenched his teeth as he seethed, “Kenny, you sick fuck! You think I would _ hit Kyle?  _ Who do you think I am?!”

“Jesus Christ, Stan, I’m only assessing the-”

“-No!” Stan stood up from the bed, “No, no, I’m done with this! I have to go.”

“Stan-”

“No. No. I have to get my tofu out of the oven before it over-crisps.”

“Woah, now! You ain’t just gonna le-!”

“-You want to know something, Kenny?” Stan whipped around, anger ablaze in his black eyes, “Those cuts on my face? Fucking  _ Kyle _ did that to me!”

Kenny’s tongue was a dead weight in his mouth.

Stan shook his head disdainfully, “So next time you go accusing me of something, make sure you know the facts here. I’m fine. You and Kyle are the only ones who need to get your stupid violent outbursts under control.”

Stan didn’t even look back at Kyle, he just strutted out of the bedroom, his head and shoulders held high. He slammed the door behind him, making both Kenny and Kyle wince at the sound it made.

When Kenny couldn’t hear Stan’s footsteps down the hall anymore, he carefully sat down beside Kyle on the bed. For a moment or two, he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. But then he mustered up the courage to put his hand on Kyle’s knee.

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just sat beside him on the worn off-white quilt, his large worker’s hand cupping Kyle’s nimble knee, sitting, breathing, taking in his presence.

It was Kyle who broke the silence.

“He was telling the truth, Ken.”

Kenny swallowed, “...I had a bad feelin’ he was.”

He looked at the bruise on Kyle’s hip bone. The shirt Kyle wore was blouse-like, so it crept up his body in his crunched position to reveal bare skin, just enough for Kenny to see the bruise in all its entirety. It wasn’t pretty. Either Kyle bruised too easily, or he hit that counter with a full head of steam.

“Do you want to know why I did it?” Kyle asked.

“Di-Didn’t you promise Stan that-”

“-Stan broke the secret first, didn’t he?”

“...”

“Why do you look so sad, Kenny? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sad before.”

“...”

“Come on. Where’s the redneck punk with the heart of gold?”

“Kyle, I’m uncomfortable. I can’t help it,” Kenny stated, knowing fully well that Kyle was probably twice as uneasy as he was.

But the redhead just nodded understandingly.

He got up from the bed and moved to lock the bedroom door. The action made Kenny’s veins run cold, “Are you- Are you locking it in case Stan tries to come in ‘n do something?”

“No,” Kyle said, “I’m locking it in case  _ you _ try to do something. By the time I’m done talking, you might want to.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few words on Warnings for This Chapter:
> 
> The only reason why this fic's warning level is listed as "Author Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings," is because this chapter is the only one that will tread on M-rated material, while all other chapters are T+rated. I didn't want to label the whole story as M, because that would be false advertising, and I couldn't just label it T, because that could be offensive to some readers, and offending anyone is the last thing I want to do <3
> 
> As for the content of this chapter itself: Discussion of a non-con event, recount of domestic assault  
> Nothing is graphic or detailed in any way! Though, I'm putting the warning in just in case.  
> It's short enough that it could be skipped over, as well.
> 
> I hope this message does not turn anyone away from the story, but I understand if that's the case <3  
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

“No,” Kyle said, trying to control the shakiness of his voice, “I’m locking it in case  _ you _ try to do something. By the time I’m done talking, you might want to.”

He stood like a statue at his bedroom door. He could feel the chilled metal of the door’s lock between his nimble fingers, and it disturbed him how cold it was. 

Kyle didn’t say what he said to scare Kenny. He said what he said to warn Kenny.

He knew all too well that Kenny could be quite the impulsive brute should he feel endangered. What’s worse, Kenny could be especially impulsive when he felt someone he cared about was endangered.

Kyle had a distinct memory of a time back in high school when Kenny threw a kid into a locker and locked him inside, just because the kid had pulled Kyle’s hair. The fire department had to free the kid using an ax. And when the principal had called him into his office afterwards, Kenny had only laughed and said “the asshole had it comin’.”

Not that he feared Kenny would lock him or Stan in a locker.

Kyle only feared that Kenny was going to overreact. That was the thing about him: he was driven by his heart, not his head. While it was sweet, it was also bittersweet. By now, they were both old enough to know that his behavior wasn’t going to help either of them fare well in the long run.

Kenny tilted his head, “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” he sighed. Kyle wanted to sit down on the bed beside Kenny, but for some reason, his feet were glued to the ground and he couldn’t move. He wrapped his arms around himself as he said, “Look, Ken, you just- You won’t like what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want you to go mauling anybody in my defense, okay? I’m only telling you this because you’re my friend and you deserve to know, not because I want to tell you.”

Kenny soft-pedaled. He was sweet like that.

“Oh, Kylie,” Kenny tried to smile, “Dude, you don’t have to tell me nothin’ you don’t wanna. I’m sorry if it felt like I was forcing you to speak, I promise I didn’t mean that.”

Kyle kept his arms wrapped around himself, “No, you deserve to know. It’s not fair for you to have to beat around the bush for us.”

Kenny looked heartbroken. It was almost pathetic how much he cared.

“Kylie…” his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, “Wait, hold up. Is this gonna be sad? Are you gonna talk about something serious? I don’t understand what’s going on between you two, and now you’re just-”

“-I’ve made up my mind,” Kyle snapped.

Kenny didn’t flinch. He never flinched when Kyle snapped.

Kenny scrutinized him closely, searching and searching for something. Kyle nearly felt vulnerable under his gaze. He could feel the blue eyes travelling his body, looking at him, studying him, like he was something that needed to be protected.

Even in the midst of his fragility, Kyle stuck his chin up high. He was not going to be the victim here. His pride was too stubborn for that.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he repeated, finally sitting down on the bed beside Kenny, “I’m going to tell you, and you’re going to sit here, and you’re going to listen. And that’s final.”

Kenny lightly laughed.

“What?” Kyle snarled.

“Nothing.”

“No. What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!”

“Why did you laugh?”

“Because I adore you!”

“Funny.”

“No, really! I adore you! That was adorable!”

“Was not!”

“Was  _ so!” _

“Well you certainly won’t adore me by the time I’m done talking.”

Kenny sobered. He scooted over on the bed, offering Kyle more room to rest.

But Kyle didn’t want to relax. He remained seated as he was, his posture as upright as a plank of wood. His rigor may have been as stern as ever, but the second he started speaking, his confidence faltered.

“We, um,” Kyle glanced downward, “So one night, Stan was in one of his… down-swings, so to speak.”

“Now, when you say ‘down-swings…’”

“You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“Oh no. Like, his depression?” Kenny mumbled, “Is his depression coming back?”

“I don’t think so. But I don’t know, since he doesn’t really want to talk about it,” Kyle said ruefully, “But, um, anyway… He came home from work and I could tell he was having a bad day, so I tried to give him his space, tried to let him cool off on his own a bit.”   
Kyle’s stiff posture drooped slightly as he confessed, “It was my fault. I should’ve kept a better eye on him. I shouldn’t’ve left him alone. He- um, well, I found him drinking. Normally, he’s responsible when he drinks because he doesn’t want to turn into his dad, if you know what I mean… but, um… He was upset, so he wasn’t taking care of himself as he drank, so…”

“Uh oh,” Kenny swallowed, “He got real drunk, didn’t he? How bad?”

“Bad,” Kyle felt a sharp sting of guilt, “Like when we used to be kids, when he was really depressed and all he ever did was drink. That kind of bad.”

“Shit,” Kenny grumbled, shaking his head to himself, “So Stanny got drunk, and got ‘imself hurt, huh? What’d he do? Pick a fight with strangers or fall down a flight of stairs?”

Kyle flushed beet-red, “Um. I- I cut Stan, remember?”

“...Oh yeah… I didn’t forget or anything, I just-... oh.”

“I tried to say sorry, but he won’t have it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He acts like what I did to him was excusable, but I was entirely in the wrong. He won’t even let me bring it up in conversation.”

“No, I mean why’d you do that to him?”

“...he was drunk,” Kyle drawled aimlessly, shuddering a little, “He- He was sad, and upset, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It’d been so long since he last behaved like that, so I didn’t really know what to do to help him… And, you know, when he asked to m-make love to me, I felt so bad for him, I-”

“-You mean sex.”

“Shit, Ken. You don’t have to be so blunt about it.”

“Why not? Don’t be so chaste, Kylie. It’s just sex. We’re allowed to talk about sex, dude. I ain’t judging y’all.”

“Kenny…”

“We ain’t middle schoolers anymore. Sex is fine to talk about. It’s justa parta life,” Kenny took a breath, “So… So like, if you and Stan just got… you know,  _ into it,”  _ Kenny wrestled for words, “You know, kinks ‘n stuff... and that ended up happening to his face, that’s fine and all. It happens. It’s okay, I get it.”

“You don’t get it. Not this time.”

Kenny was silent now.

Kyle took a deep breath, “Yeah. We had sex. He was really upset and he asked for it. So I said yes. Damn it, I know it was wrong of me. I just felt so bad for him. I thought he needed reassurance that he was loved, and that at that time, having s-... that  _ doing it  _ was the best way to prove I loved him. I know it doesn’t make that much sense now, but  _ then, _ it just made sense, okay? He was really upset. So yeah. We made love. But after we started-”   
-He had to stop to cough on phlegm that still congested the back of his throat.

Kenny raised an eyebrow, “Fuck, are you still sick?”

“No. Shut up,” Kyle answered, clearing his throat. He pushed on, his voice a little shakier, “Anyway, I don’t know, he wasn’t- He was drunk. He was upset. He wasn’t in his right mind. He started... doing things I didn’t like, and I wanted to stop, but he didn’t understand what-”

“-Wait,” Kenny’s eyes were as wide as the sky, “Wait, wait, hold up. You wanted to stop? Wait. Hold up. Ky. Kylie, wait. Did you- Wait, you _didn’t_ _want_ it?”

“No, I did! Well, I thought I did, but I- I don’t know. It started to hurt. I didn’t like it so I-”

“-Holy shit, did he  _ force _ you?”

_ “No, _ Kenny! You always assume the worst!” Kyle shrieked, “Calm down! Calm down, okay? He didn’t do that. I said yes.”

“But you said you didn’t like what he was doing!”

“I said yes to him.”

“You said it started to hurt!”

“Kenny-”

“-Did you tell him to stop?”

“Kenny, you’re-”

“-I’m not overreacting! I’m not even being mama bear!” Kenny flared with a fervent passion, wild with unceasing worry, “This is serious, Kyle! Did you tell him to stop? Answer me, for the love of all things holy! Did you tell him to stop when he started hurting you?”

Kenny’s intensity made Kyle flinch. He recoiled into himself, a sudden coldness overwhelming his senses. He ducked his head guiltily, “No. I didn’t tell him.”

Kenny didn’t move a muscle, waiting, like he already knew Kyle wanted to say something more. Somehow he just  _ knew. _

Kyle’s mouth went dry when he further admitted, “I didn’t tell him. I asked him. I asked him to stop.”

“But he still fucked you.”

“Don’t word it like that.”

“He was hurting you.”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Kyle snapped, “Don’t accuse him of anything! He was drunk! He didn’t understand!”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“It doesn’t matter anyway!” Kyle reared. He jumped off the bed to his feet, not because he had anywhere to go, but because he wanted to have the higher ground. He started pacing around the bedroom, doing laps around the bed, pacing wall to wall and back again.

Kenny must have realized Kyle needed his space, because he let him pace the room without intervening. He leaned forward on the bed, “Oh, it fuckin’ matters alright! He was hurting you, Kyle! He can’t do that!”

“It doesn’t  _ matter!”  _ Kyle whipped around, “May I  _ remind  _ you about the scratches on his face?! I did that to him! I hurt him! I was weak! I couldn’t fight him off of me, and my words weren’t getting through to him, so what else could I do?! I wasn’t thinking straight either, so I just-!”   
-In a pathetic gesture of frenzied agitation, Kyle clawed at the air, scraping his fingernails down the sides of an imaginary face, clawing and clawing, and clawing, and clawing, until he felt Kenny’s hands wrap around his wrists to still him.

Kenny pulled Kyle into a hug, encumbering him from all sides, sheltering him in assurance and solidarity.

Kyle pushed him away at first, too distressed to even consider calming down.

But eventually, Kenny managed to gently still him, holding his wrists together and enveloping him in an intimate embrace. Only when his head was leaning against Kenny’s soft chest did Kyle finally start to calm down.

He could feel Kenny’s heartbeat in his ear, and it was racing aggressively.   
That’s why it startled Kyle when Kenny’s voice was so slow, gentle and assuring.

“Kyle,” he whispered, “That’s rape.”

“No,” Kyle squeaked, his voice hitching, “It’s not. I said yes.”

“But you asked him to stop.”

“He didn’t understand. He would never hurt me.”

Kenny hugged him tighter, “What about the gym? He hurt you then.”

Kyle wanted to shake his head no, but it felt better to rest it against Kenny’s chest, “He just didn’t understand. He was trying to help me.”

“But you still fainted.”

“He wouldn’t ever hurt me. C-Come on, Ken, we both know that I’m more likely to be violent than he is. He would never… He’s such a sweetheart.”

“How can you say that?”

“He- He bought me a puppy.”

“You don’t even like animals.”

Kyle shuddered. Kenny just said the exact thing Kyle had ached to tell Stan since the day Maple was brought home, but had never had the guts to admit it. Stan had just been so happy, so charming, and so eager to make Kyle’s day that Kyle hadn’t had the heart to tell him.

It had been a few days now since Maple was brought into his home, and Kyle still hadn’t even touched her. She made him uncomfortable. He never thought he could be afraid of dogs until it was too late and he was already living with one. But even in his discomfort, Kyle couldn’t talk to Stan about it.

He felt guilty that he was uncomfortable around a puppy. It was a  _ puppy _ for heaven’s sake, it was a  _ gift. _ Maple was a love token from Stan to Kyle as an apology. Kyle would have to be an absolute asshole to refute her. He couldn’t hurt Stan again, not after he quite literally  _ hurt  _ him, scratching Stan’s face until he  _ bled.  _ Stan deserved so much better than that. All he wanted was to make Kyle happy and do good things for him, but all Kyle did in return was cut his face, fail Stan’s health plans, and break down into tears when he was given a heartfelt present.

Stan deserved so much better than that. He deserved better than  _ Kyle. _

Kyle pushed Kenny away.

Kenny didn’t fight. He let himself be pushed away, but he lingered by to say, “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I swear.”

“Shut up,” Kyle said, his tone flat and dazed, “Kenny, I- I’m sorry for telling you. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I’m sorry, I-”

-Kenny looked like he had been slapped across the face, “What? No! Kyle, no. What the hell? No,  _ thank you _ for telling me. That takes so much courage. I’m  _ proud _ of you. Since you told me, I’m able to make things okay for you. I’m gonna fix this, I’m-”

“-No!” Kye reared, “No, I take back what I said! I only told you because you deserve to know, not because I want you to do anything! We don’t need your help! Stan is my problem, okay? I was the one who fucked this up, so I’m going to be the one to fix it. Not you.”

“What?” Kenny’s mouth dropped, “You did nothing wrong! Stan was the one who was drinking! He was the one who fuckin’ r-”

“-Don’t say that! He didn’t!”

“Don’t defend him! He ra-!”

“-Don’t you  _ dare _ accuse him of that!” Kyle screeched. He riveted forward to scream more, but was interrupted by a booming  _ knock knock knock _ from the other side of his bedroom wall.

He had been so distressed that he had forgotten he lived in an apartment complex. His neighbor on the other side of the wall pounded on its surface, demanding peace. As Kyle forced himself to be quiet, he realized with horror that he could hear signs of life. He could hear  _ everything _ around him. He heard the overhead buzzing of the air conditioner, the footsteps of his neighbor upstairs, and the coughing of the old lady who lived down the hall.

“Shit,” he accidentally said aloud.

If his neighbors could hear him, and they were far away behind a solid brick wall, that had to mean Stan and Karen could hear next to  _ everything _ he and Kenny were saying.

He glanced at the door in petrified fear, imagining Stan looming behind it. The thought of Stan pressing his ear against the door and hearing all those awful things made Kyle immobilized in terror.

Kenny must have misinterpreted what Kyle was afraid of.

His mouth was open in a small ‘o,’ his eyes so soft and caring that it made Kyle feel guilty all over again. Kenny looked at him like he was Karen, like he was a little kid who had been through hell and needed an escape.

“Don’t worry, Kylie,” he said delicately, “I ain’t gonna let ‘im touch you again.”

“Stop-” Kyle felt his hands form fists, “-Stop talking about me like I’m a victim. I’m not. Stan’s the victim. I hurt him, but he’s the one burdening himself trying to get over it for the both of us.”

“It don’t matter who the ‘victim’ is. Neither of you can just walk away from this.”

“He- He bought me a puppy,” Kyle said stupidly, not even thinking as the words left his mouth.

“It don’t matter if he buys you things. Still ain’t an apology,” Kenny stated, “Besides, like I said, you don’t even like pets. Did it ever once cross your mind that  _ he _ fuckin’ adores pets while you don’t?”

“Maple was a gift.”

“For you or for himself?”

“Kenny, stop it. You don’t know what you’re saying,” Kyle found himself feeling dazed all over again, unable to rightfully fight back. He felt exhausted, and his throat scratched when he talked.

“Why’d he throw that shoe?” Kenny asked. His eagerness was in direct opposition to Kyle’s approaching sleepiness.

“He… was upset.”

“Naw dip. Seriously. Why’d he throw that shoe? Was he trying to hurt you?”

“No. Just because I don’t appreciate anything he does for me.”

“Well, there ain’t nothin’ to appreciate at this point, just saying,” Kenny muttered, “But what makes you say that?”

“I mean, that’s what Stan told me before he- you know, threw his shoe. He’s not wrong, either.”

“Stan said that?”

“What?”

“He said you don’t appreciate anything he does for you?”

“Yes?”

“Woah. I think I see it now, dude,” Kenny said. His gaze was fixated in deep concentration. He was thinking so intently that Kyle swore he could hear the gears turning in his head.   
“I think Stan’s a narcissist,” Kenny said, not even blinking.

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” Kyle said in a split-second, “And that’s saying something. ‘cause you’ve said some pretty stupid shit before. Stan’s the most empathetic hippie in town. Everyone knows that.”

“I ain’t sayin’ he can’t care for others. I’m only sayin’ he’s a narcissist and he thinks about himself first.”

“That’s so fucking stupid. You’re making that up.”

“No, dude, seriously. I think he is,” Kenny leaned forward on the bed, “Bringing a dog home like that either means he forgot about how it’d make you feel or he didn’t care. And then to call you out on it, sayin’ that you don’t appreciate what he does, that’s just sick!”

“So he’s emotionally ignorant. So what? He’s never been good with emotions, we know that, Kenny. It’s just the athlete in him; most athletes are bad with that kind of stuff. Doesn’t mean he’s a narcissist.”

“It  _ could _ mean he is,” Kenny pointed out, “He turned something about you into something about himself. Like, remember that midnight at the gym? You were sneezing and getting sick. What was the first thing he said?”

“I don’t remember, Ken…” Kyle placed a hand to his forehead.

“‘I’m a bad boyfriend, aren’t I?’” he said with conviction, “Again. The dude turned something about you into something about himself. I ain’t sayin’ Stan is heartless. In fact, he’s got one of the biggest hearts I know. But you gotta admit, whenever things are about you, he finds a way to take it away and make it about himself.”

It struck him like a bolt of lighting. Numbness.

Just like what happened in his big fight with Stan a few nights ago, Kyle was assailed by an overwhelming numbness. It consumed him. There was a weight in his chest and a ringing in his ears that drowned out everything around him. He couldn’t even feel shocked or saddened by Kenny’s words, because he couldn’t feel anything at all. He just felt numb.

Kenny licked his lip, “Kylie? You okay? You look kinda pale. You sure you ain’t still sick?”

When Kyle replied, his voice was so hoarse it didn’t sound like his own:   
“Stan loves me. He loves me more than he loves himself. He’s not a narcissist. He hates himself, Kenny, why do you think he was drinking in the first place? He wouldn’t ever hurt me on purpose. He was drunk and he wasn’t in control. I was fine. I was completely sober, and yet I did that to him. I was supposed to be responsible and help him instead of let him do what he wanted, so therefore I was the one who took advantage of him. That’s the truth, and fuck you for thinking anything otherwise.”

“...”

“...”

“You really believe that?”

“I swear to HaShem.”

Kyle had meant for it to be a threat, but his voice was so whispery and grating that it sounded like he was pleading. He lacked his unyielding ire, his anger. He didn’t have a drop of enmity in his body. Kyle could only imagine how he appeared to Kenny; probably pitiful beyond belief.

“Do you wanna spend the night at my house?” Kenny asked out of nowhere.

Kyle didn’t have the energy to be surprised. He just blinked and said, “No.”

“Can I spend the night with y’all, then?”

“You have to do two plays tonight,” Kyle said slowly, feeling a little dizzy, “Then you have to go to work at the gym… then Karen needs to go to school in the morning.”

It wasn’t even his schedule. It was Kenny’s schedule. But it was making him so sleepy to think about it… Why was he so  _ dizzy _ all of a sudden?

Kenny groaned, “I know. I just really,  _ really _ don’t want to leave y’all alone together tonight. Hold on. Let me-... Let me think. Hold on,” he paused for a moment, and then raised his head, “Can Karen spend the night?”

Kyle must have been hallucinating. He never would have thought he could hear those words leave Kenny’s mouth in his lifetime.

“You’d actually be comfortable with that, Kenny?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. She’s responsible. And I know you’ll take good care of her,” Kenny said honestly, “But it’s not  _ her _ I’m worried about, y’know.”

The edges of Kyle’s vision were going black. He was starting to see dots and colors floating around his line of sight. He was so dizzy. He was so  _ numb. _

“Besides, the two of you had fun earlier today, right?” Kenny went on, his voice sounding like he was talking from underwater, “You’re friends. It’ll just be a friendly sleepover, that’s all. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Kyle answered, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to.

“Bet,” Kenny stood up from the bed and went to the door, “Now that that’s set in stone, excuse me for a bit. I gotta go share a few words with your boyfriend.”

Kyle could barely see Kenny. He was so far away. And with the fuzzy flecks of black surrounding Kyle’s sight, it was even harder to see him.

“Kenny…” Kyle whimpered, his eyes aching at having to squint.

“I ain’t gonna let him touch one hair on your head, don’t you worry. I’m just gonna give him a little hell,” he unlocked the door and started to open it.

The hostility in Kenny’s voice made Kyle recoil. His vision was swimming in blackness. He couldn’t see anything, he was so dizzy, he was so numb, he couldn’t-

-He tried reaching out for Kenny, walking forward, but he took a wrong step and his knees buckled from beneath him.

Kenny had to swoop in and catch him before he fell.

“Jesus Christ, Kyle, what’s wrong? This is, like, the millionth time now,” Kenny exclaimed, holding him desperately. His words were harsh, but he wasn’t scolding at all, he was puling miserably.

_ I’m dizzy. I must have forgotten to take my insulin. _

At least, that’s what Kyle tried to say. He couldn’t form the right words.   
The words he could manage were something entirely bizarre:

“Don’t give Stan hell. He loves me,” he mumbled, squinting up at Kenny’s worried blue eyes behind the blackness in his vision.

“Kyle…”

“Stan loves me,” Kyle said. He wanted to cry again, but he didn’t have the strength for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a special thank you to the readers who have commented! I actually had a rough day yesterday (Seriously. Said goodbye to the girl of my dreams after simping over her for 3 years. Owie), and I stumbled across my inbox to see the comments, and a lot of them helped perk me back up! Thank you so much! <3 Forgive me for not responding, I promise I will next time ;) I just wanted to say thank you for your support, y'all are phenomenal.


	8. Chapter 8

Kenny didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He didn’t even know what he _wanted_ to do. He couldn’t think clearly. His head was overwhelmed with too many thoughts at once. His mind jumped from thought to thought so quickly he forgot what he was thinking about to begin with; the panicked, worried thoughts were all jump-cutting and meshing together in a truculent passion that made his head woozy.

Normally when Kenny was distressed, he would immediately act on whatever surge of stimulus he felt was right. As annoyingly cliché as it sounded, his heart usually led him down the right path during troubled times. But now, his mind was reeling.

He truly had no idea what he was supposed to do. With Kyle, with Stan, with anything. He was clueless.

So Kenny did what he _could_ do for now.

He helped Kyle onto the bed and tucked the sheets around him. Kyle was bitterly muttering something about Kenny babying him, but he wasn’t pushing him away. He didn’t need to say anything for Kenny to know he didn’t have the strength for it.

Kyle didn’t look so well. He didn’t outright faint like he had in the gym, which was a saving grace, but he collapsed nonetheless. That was the third time now that Kenny had to catch him before his head hit the floor.

As Kenny helped him lean back against the pillow, he couldn’t help but causticly wonder if he had gone to the gym again.

He thought about asking Kyle about it, but decided against it when he realized that Kyle needed to rest. The sweat on his body plastered his red hair to his forehead, and gave his face a sickly shine. His eyes were half-lidded, like he was awake and asleep at the same time. His indisposed state made Kenny want to sit by and look after him as he rested. He wanted to wipe the sweat from his face, wash his hair so it didn’t bother him, salve his knees so they wouldn’t make him stumble, and help him wake up.

But not now. Right now, he should let him rest. It was the least Kyle deserved at the moment, after everything he’s been through.

Kenny left the bedroom with invisible weights on his shoulders. The journey back to the living room was long and treacherous. On his way he passed the kitchen, where he saw Stan’s snack bowl of tofu and diced vegetables sitting on the counter, uneaten and untouched.

He repressed a shudder, moving on to the living room. Karen was sprawled out over the couch on her phone, Maple asleep on her stomach, while Stan was in an odd position on the floor.

Kenny couldn’t help but ogle at Stan confusedly, wondering how the hell he seemed to levitate above the ground, only one hand and one foot touching the floor. His eyes were closed; he was breathing in and out of his nose while he listened to music from buds in his ears.

“I wouldn’t talk to him if I were you,” Karen said, not even glancing up from her phone, “I’ve already tried. He’s got a pretty strong headspace, he’ll tune you out like it’s nobody’s business.”

“What?” Kenny asked. His little sister always seemed to know more than he did.

“He’s doing yoga,” she explained, “He’s pretty focused. I don’t think even _you’d_ be able to break his concentration.”

“The fuck? Yoga?” Kenny gawked, “That’s gay.”

“He literally has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, he won’t for much longer.”

Kenny was almost bristling. He could feel himself revamping into a state of defense. “Big Brother Mode,” “Mama Bear,” whatever the fuck the others wanted to call it, Kenny was going there, and he could quite literally _feel_ the insistent urge to defend coarsing through his bloodstream.

But the more he looked at Stan, his aggression denatured.

It was an uncomfortable predicament, but Kenny _wanted_ to be mad at Stan. He wanted to, so badly, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Stan was his brother in arms, his right-hand-man, his fidus achates. How could he be mad at him?

His fists dropped, but his seething feelings didn’t.

Karen’s smirk faltered. She set her phone aside to say, “Kenny? Do you want to tell me what’s going on? It looked like they were going to fight earlier. And I thought I heard you and Kyle yelling in there...”

Kenny looked to Stan in an instant panic, expecting to find him upset that they were talking about him behind his back, like he wasn’t right there in the room with them.

Though Kenny was met with relief when he realized that Stan was _acting_ like he wasn’t there in the room with them. Stan was tuning out his surroundings. Whatever ambiance-type, milieu-esque music he was playing must be ethereally transformative, because Stan was moving onto Warrior Pose II entirely undisturbed.

Following her big brother’s gaze, Karen looked over at Stan, her lips curling into an innocent smile, “When I was hanging out with Kyle earlier, he said something about Stan taking up yoga back when he was in high school. According to him, Stan insisted it was because he thought it would help him with football, but Kyle says it’s more likely Stan does yoga to help with sadness or stress. I think it’s sweet.”

“Then the asshole should do it more.”

“Kenny,” Karen lightly scolded, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I didn’t mean that to be mean,” Kenny said, and it’s true, he didn’t. His arms crossed, he watched Stan move onto the Trikonasana pose, “I’m just saying the dude should do yoga more if it helps his headspace. He had a lot of mental problems going on when we were kids. Even if it’s fucking gay, I’d much rather Stan do some sun-salutations than dri-... than do something stupid.”

He held himself back from referencing Stan’s (past?) problem with alcohol. Karen didn’t need to know about that.

Kenny observed Stan as he moved; his form was perfect as he released a powerful exhale, morphing into the next yoga position. He was so graceful, so serene.

It was hard to stomach that Stan of all people could be a violent drunkard. The thought of it was just unbearable. Stan was the same kid who once locked himself and the others in his bedroom to protest the harvestation of baby cows for veal. He was the same person who threw a “coming out party” for his gay dog. He was the same guy who bawled watching “Finding Nemo” and helped bugs out of the house instead of squishing them. But most importantly, he was the same fool who loved Kyle with all his heart, and any idiot could see it.

Stan let out a quiet groan when he got into a taut stretch. He neither opened his eyes nor noticed the McCormicks in the room. Instead, he only held the stretch until he was satisfied, and then slipped into a recovery move, sighing with relief.

Kenny’s throat tightened the more he studied Stan’s physique. His biceps were bulging, their dark blue veins protruding. His skin-tight athletic shirt accented the muscles of his abdomen, and his calves were as sturdy as stone. Stan had always been lean and muscular, especially in high school when he played football, but it seemed as though in recent years, his robustness intensified tenfold. His breadth was wider, his tendons were firmer, and his prestige was stricter.

Kenny couldn’t bring himself to worry about Stan over-exercising, not now. His mind was plagued by a more devastating prospect.

Stan forced himself on Kyle. This 6’3” bulk of muscle forced himself on Kyle.  
Kyle, the petite diabetic who at this moment was idling, borderline ailing, in his bed because he barely had the strength to stand.  
Kyle, who Stan practically _worshipped._

Kenny decided right then and there that Kyle mangling Stan’s face the way he did was justified. Even though Stan was a gentle giant, even though he adored Kyle with every inch of his being, he was still a goliath, and goliaths were terrifying when they were drunk and out of control.

It was bloodcurdling to see how perfectly controlled Stan was right now.

“Hey, Kenny?” Karen piped up, breaking Kenny from his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he called back, completely forgetting that his arms were aggressively crossed over his chest.

“It’s almost three in the afternoon,” she said tentatively, “This is the second Sunday since your show’s opened… you have a matinee performance today, don’t you?”

“Shit,” Kenny’s mouth dropped, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

His director was going to kill him. Oh god, there were so many things that needed to be done. He had fight call, costume readjustments, sound cues, music call, and _many_ other preparations to attend before the curtain rose this afternoon. He had forgotten to go over his lines the night before, to reread scene three, and to rehearse that stupid fucking kissing scene with his stupidly queasy costar actress. Not only that, but after the matinee, he had to do a regular evening performance only two hours after finishing the first play. His director was going to _kill him_ if he didn’t get down to the theatre soon.

Karen looked at the time-stamp on her phone, “I think you can still make it on time. As long as you leave within the next two minutes.”

“I don’t wanna,” Kenny grabbed handfuls of his hair in his fists and pulled anxiously. He was subconsciously aware that he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. He was dealing with too much all at once.

“Kenny, you have to go. Right now.”

“Mmmnnn… I know. I know. IknowIknowIknowIknowIknowIknowIknow.”

Karen looked at him like a nurturer looked at a wounded baby bird, not the way a little girl was supposed to look at her big brother, “Do you have an understudy who can take over for you today?”

“No. I don’t got an understudy this time,” Kenny sighed, “An’ even if I did, I’d have to be the world’s biggest jerk to ask somebody to take over so soon.”  
He let go of his hair, letting his hands drop to his sides, “Sissy, I really gotta go, but I really, really don’t wanna.”

“This has to do with Kyle and Stan, doesn’t it?” she asked, though Kenny could tell by the tone of her voice that she already knew the answer.

Brother and sister alike both glanced at Stan, who was side-planking the other way this time, before looking back at each other.

Karen started to twist her hair, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Kenny internally groaned. His sister was just like him. She wore her heart on her sleeves and cared too much about everyone around her. Sometimes he secretly wished that Karen didn’t care about anyone at all; at least then, she could protect herself from her friends’ cataclysms and contretemps.  
But no. She cared. She cared deeply. Her beautiful hazel eyes reflected just how much she hated seeing Kenny distressed, and his heart ached looking at her.

Normally, Kenny would have shooed her away, insisting that he was dealing with an adult problem, and that she should stay out of it for her own protection. But given the circumstances and Kenny’s disastrous time limit, he couldn’t think of any other option than to accept her help.

“Yeah, actually,” Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, “I maybe sorta already told Kyle you’d spend the night here? Like, as a sleepover?”

Karen pouted confusedly, “A sleepover?”

“To watch over the both of ‘em,” he said, and then added, “I kinda want to take you and Kyle to my play with me, just to get y’all outta here. But I don’t think I can, ‘cause Kyle’s not feeling well. He needs to rest. And Stan he-... I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you, ‘cause it may or may not’ve been a secret, I’m not sure. So let’s just say Kyle’s not feeling well, and I don’t really know what’s going on with Stan right now. I need you to look after them for me.”

Karen smiled, and Kenny knew why. He was asking her to play a part; he was treating her like an adult. It was something he needed to do more often, and damn it, Kenny _knew_ that, but old habits die hard and sometimes it was just so _hard_ to let go of her hand. But today he was asking for her help, and she knew it.

Kenny preempted himself before she could get a single word out, “On one condition though. First you- Okay, wait. Two conditions. On two conditions you can help. One,” he held up a finger to demonstrate, “Spend your time with Kyle, not Stan, ‘kay? No being alone with Stan. The same goes for Kyle. At least not ‘til I get back.”

Karen clearly had questions, but she held her tongue.

“Condition two,” he held up a second finger, “Keep me updated, ‘kay? I got you that phone for a reason, it ain’t only for TikTok. I want you to text me if you notice anything-... I don’t know. Just- Just weird. Text me if you see anything weird, or whatever. I don’t think I need to go into detail…”

Karen picked up where he left off, “I think I know what you mean. You can trust me.”

“I know I can, sis,” Kenny wanted to smile; he was too stressed for it, but he really wanted to smile. His sister was too good for him.

Snaring away their instant attention, Stan released a long, long exhale and descended into child’s pose.

Kenny knew enough about yoga to understand that child’s pose was the last step before finishing a session. Stan was almost done, and Kenny had to leave as soon as possible before his director skinned him alive for being late.

In a heated rush, Kenny sprinted to the apartment’s kitchen, where he tore open the refrigerator. He could feel Karen’s worried gaze glued to his back, but he didn’t have the time to explain himself.

He took all the alcoholic drinks he could find from the fridge, and proceeded to dump them down the sink. He didn’t stop until every last drop went down the drain and he was left with nothing but glass bottles.

He looked at the clock. He had to go.

“Sissy!” he called distractedly, trying to assemble all the empty bottles in his arms at the same time, “If Stan starts looking for his drinks ‘n shit, tell him I stole ‘em for the cast and crew, and that I’ll pay ‘im back.”

Disregarding the sleeping puppy on the couch, Karen scrambled to quickly open the front door for him, “I will, I promise, but are you going to tell me the full story when you get back from your plays?”

“Fuck, I dunno,” Kenny muttered, “I have to do my shift at the gym, and you have to go to school tomorrow-” _and I don’t even know the full story in the first place, and there are too many things I don’t understand, and I don’t want to scare you, and Kyle needs you right now, and-_  
-Kenny pretended that the reason he stopped talking was because he noticed the time on his watch. He feigned a shrug, “Gotta go.”

Karen started twirling her hair again, “Break a leg...”

“Thanks,” he stepped out of the apartment, but then promptly returned to add: “Go to Kyle.”

He made a move to run out again, but came back to say: “Thank you, Sissy.”

He ran, stopped, came back, and said: “Love you.”

With his closing statement made, he bolted out the door and ran down the hall like a bat out of hell. The empty bottles in his arms _clinked_ through the entire trek to the parking lot, a few of them rattling and threatening to slip from his hold. But Kenny didn’t release them until he was in the driver’s seat, letting the bottles spill over the floor of his old-fashioned truck.

Now that he was finally still, he looked through the front windshield all the way up to the third floor of the apartment complex, where he could see the windows of Stan and Kyle’s humble abode. The blinds were drawn, so he couldn’t see anything inside, but his anxiety was climbing all the same.

Maybe if he had time, he could figure this out.

But he didn’t have time. He didn’t even have his parka; he had left that on their kitchen counter. All Kenny had was empty bottles and a sinking feeling in his gut.

* * *

He was two minutes late to fight call, and his director made him run twenty laps around the theatre as punishment.

Kenny wouldn’t admit out loud that he was actually grateful for his punishment. The rush of adrenaline helped clear his mind and allowed him to blow off some steam before the show. He would have given the world’s worst performance if he went onstage with his mind still boggled and overwhelmed.

Luckily, the matinee went as well as it could go. Kenny felt like he messed up a few times, but given the circumstances, he still did as best as he could do.

When the curtain fell, Kenny promptly beelined to the dressing room to grab his phone. He didn’t bother getting out of costume or taking off his makeup, he just sat down on the counter and started reading through the updates Karen sent him, while the cast and crew were forced to skirt around him to prepare for the evening show.

There were a lot of texts from Karen. That scared him.

He held his breath as he started to read them:

**Sissy:** _Ok so I’m with Kyle. I found a thermometer and he doesn’t have a fever, which is good. He’s acting normal. His glucose probabably just dropped. Or maybe you scared him? Did you say anything that would’ve scared him into fainting when you were talking to him?_

**Sissy:** _*probably. sorry_

**Sissy:** _Stan just finished yoga. he has to leave for work soon._

**Sissy:** _He’s acting fine. I guess yoga works bc he’s really calm. He and Ky are getting along._

**Sissy:** _Stan went off to his lifeguard job. It’s just me and Kyle now_

**Sissy:** _Just braided Kyle’s hair :) He’s going to be so mad at me tomorrow when it frizzes. I don’t know how people deal with curls. I barely feel bad tho. He looks great. Wait I’ll send a pic_

**PHOTO: []**

**Sissy:** _Hey, do you know anything about that stain on the wall? Nobody’s cleaned it. Idk if that’s the kind of thing you want me to take note of or not, but that’s the only ‘weird’ thing I’ve noticed._

**Sissy:** _We cleaned up the mess from the pet store. Now we’re watching movies together :)_

**Sissy:** _Stan came back from work. He’s in good spirits_

**Sissy:** _Ew they’re kissing. Send help._

**Sissy:** _Don’t misinterpret that. You overprotective brute <3 <3 <3 Don’t send help. We are all fine :) _

Kenny frowned. He reread his sister’s texts again and again to ensure he was understanding correctly. Everything was normal, she said, everything was fine. For some reason, Kenny couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

He looked at his watch. If he left now, he might have time to stop by the apartment for five minutes before he had to come back and prepare for the next play.

He grabbed the keys to his truck, only to have them immediately slapped out of his hand by the stage manager.

Wendy Testaburger stood erect in the center of the mens’ dressing room without shame, one arm around a laundry basket, the other hand fiercely on her hip, as she stared Kenny down with pointed eyes, “You’re not seriously thinking about going somewhere, are you? After what happened before the matinee?”

“I was only two minutes late. Sheesh,” Kenny grumbled, scooping up his keys from the ground.

He was only thankful that Wendy was his stage manager instead of somebody he didn’t know. Because he grew up with her, he had the liberty to back-sass and be disrespectful in ways the other actors wouldn’t dream of. He still respected the hell out of her, that was a given since childhood, but with Wendy, he could run his potty mouth as much as he wanted and barely face any consequences. That was an opportunity he seldom let go to waste.

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, “You slipped up at the start of act two.”

“I did?”

“You were punching all the wrong words. You kept hitting the pronouns and skipping over the verbs in your lines. That’s an amateur, mediocre mistake,” her tone was stern, but Kenny could tell that she was speaking from the heart, “I’ve never had to give you that note before. Are you okay?”

Kenny sighed, “Sorry, Wends. I’ll do better tonight.”

She lingered by, one hand still on her hip as she assessed him. Clearly she noticed his unusual disposition. Kenny could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to know more, but all she asked was, “May I have your socks? We’re doing an undergarments load before the next show.”

“Oh,” Kenny hesitated before peeling off his sweat-soaked socks and tossing them in her laundry basket.

While she was still here, Kenny couldn’t help but ask, “Hey, Wends? Have you seen Stan or Kyle recently?”

She pursed her lips in thought, “I think I saw them opening night. Briefly. We didn’t get the chance to talk. They looked well, from what I could see. Why?”

“I dunno, I just-” Kenny’s breath hitched, “I dunno.”

Wendy didn’t even blink when she said, “Don’t leave before the next show. Please. You’re needed here. You’re integral, Kenny.”

“Thanks,” he replied, though it felt weird to accept a compliment he didn’t fully believe.

_“Miss Testaburger!”_ one of the actors whined from the other side of the dressing room, “The zipper on my costume’s stuck again! My pants won’t come off!”

Wendy gave Kenny a look that said “kill me.”

He had to repress a smirk, knowing she would flick him in the face if he dared laugh at her.

She shifted the laundry basket further up her hip, “Duty calls. I guess I’ll be off.”

“Thanks for the note on act two,” Kenny said, “Like I said, I’ll do better tonight.”

“I know you will. And for the record, Kenny, I thought your kiss scene was the best it’s ever been this afternoon,” she said, a rare smile teasing her lips, “Did you make a new discovery in your character? Or were you just thinking about somebody special when you kissed your partner this time?”

Kenny was stunned at first, so stunned that he accidentally let out a few nervous laughs.

He was so surprised by both her praise and her odd comment that his rebuttal was prematurely stupid:  
“Uh, yeah. I was thinking about _your mom,_ Wends.”

“Classy, McCormick. Real classy.”

_“Miss Testaburger, please! The zipper freaking hurts!”_

Wendy stifled a groan. She nodded her head in a parting gesture, before venturing off to help the idiot on the other side of the dressing room. When she departed, Kenny turned to face his reflection in the mirror.

He noticed that for whatever reason, his cheeks were flushed. They weren’t simply colored by the burn of the stage-lights, no, they were downright _red._ He was blushing like a schoolgirl.

He was appalled. Had Wendy’s stupid question bugged him that _much?_

Before Kenny could chastise himself in the mirror, he noticed something else about his reflection, and it made the color in his face disappear in an instant.

Another grey hair rested at the top of his bangs. Another one.

For some reason… it just wasn’t funny anymore.

It should not have disheartened him. He should have seen it coming. He had been worrying himself sick for days now, on top of working graveyard shifts and burning midnight oil with his performances. Under all this pressure, he really should have seen it coming.

But it desolated him all the same.

He looked over his shoulders to see if anyone else in the room was watching him. It was a small space, there were a lot of people, but no one was looking in his direction. The ensemble members were bumbling about, working and talking with an efficiency that made his head spin. Nobody had time to notice Kenny and his new grey hair.

He picked up a pair of tweezers from the makeup station and plucked the hair from his head.

Kenny thought that he would feel better afterwards.

Instead, he noticed another grey hair more towards the center of his head. He plucked that one, too.

Then he saw more grey down the sides, around the front, and from the back. There was grey everywhere. He was sure he was the only one who could see it, but that only made him feel worse. He wasn’t even twenty-four years old yet, and he had more grey hairs than he could count. And wrinkles. Oh god, there were wrinkles. Kenny had stress marks around his mouth and nose, and he was even starting to develop crow’s feet around his eyes.

Kenny grimaced. He started to hate getting older. He was worrying himself into an early grave, and he knew it.

His phone buzzed.

He knew it was from Karen.

Kenny turned his phone upside down on the countertop so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

He had to take it easy. He had to take a mental break before his last strand of blonde hair lost its color. He could afford to not immediately reply, couldn’t he? Certainly, he could. After all, Karen had been saying that everything was going swimmingly for hours now, so he had to trust that she was right.

He needed to calm down to breathe, think, and collect himself. He needed it desperately. And for once, Kenny was actually going to give himself what he needed. The curtain was soon going to rise again, and he had to be ready.

* * *

His speech and dialect were perfect in act two. The kissing scene was stupendous. It was actually so stupendous that the audience hooted and hollered for minutes on end, and Kenny had to go in for a second kiss just to shut them up and get the show moving. By the time Kenny closed the play, he was mentally and physically fatigued, and he _loved_ it.

Instead of checking his phone, the first thing Kenny did was undress and take off his makeup. Then he washed his face. Then he let himself breathe. Then, and only then, did he finally open up Karen’s texts.

As he predicted, Karen texted about how well everything was going. She texted about playing with Maple, watching movies, and eating dinner with Stan and Kyle. She sounded like she was having a lot of fun.

It wasn’t until much later that night that Karen’s texts got a little concerning.

**Sissy:** _Hey Kenny don’t be mad but there’s kind of a problem._

**Sissy:** _I know you wanted me to keep Stan and Kyle from being alone together, but I can’t really do anything right now. They went off to bed. I can’t do anything about that can I?_

**Sissy:** _I’m supposed to be asleep. They pulled the couch out into a bed for me, but I’m too worried to fall asleep. since you told me to keep them separated and all. I don’t really know why I’m worried but i am._

**Sissy:** _Hey go look outside! Idk if you have access to a window right now, but there’s heat lighting outside. It’s so pretty! I’ll send some pictures but they won’t do it any justice_

**PHOTO: []**

**PHOTO: []**

**PHOTO: []**

**Sissy:** _they’re talking to eachothr_

**Sissy:** _it’s almost midnight. Sorry I’m awake on a school night but they’re talking to each other and it’s keepnig me up. theyve been talkign for two hours now._

**Sissy:** _i cant hear hwat theyre saying but it soudns serious. is this what you meant by ‘weird’? Bc im woriied_

**Sissy:** _I think I’m overreacting. I feel like you_

**Sissy:** _I’m going to try to go to sleep. It’s a school night._

Kenny put his phone down. He looked back up at his reflection in the mirror. Maybe he could afford a few more stress marks.

He snatched his keys and ran out to his truck.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of this one ;-; I tried to cut it down a little, but it's still a bit longer than I would have liked. I try make all my chapters the same length for readers' convenience, but I couldn't trim this one ;-; Sowee! I hope it still turns out okay.
> 
> Anyway, onto the Warnings for this Chapter:  
> Reference to underage sex (not graphic), reference to a non-con event (not graphic), minor violence, and indications of severe gaslighting

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

_ “Ow! _ Owowowowowowowow-”

“-No! Oh no! Kyle, I’m sorry! Shoot, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh through his pain, “It’s fine. Really. It’s fine. It’s just my stupid hair. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Stan grunted, clearly displeased by the tight braids Karen left in Kyle’s unruly bed of hair. He had been endlessly laboring to untie the braids for minutes now, but to no avail. Their bedroom was damp (probably a sign that mold was soon to sprout on their wallpaper), so Kyle’s hair was frizzing, knotting the ties on his head even tighter.

Kyle never would have imagined that the mop of red curls on his head was even long enough to be braided in the first place; he kept it shorter than a bob; but to his unadulterated surprise, Karen found a way to make it happen.

Not only was she an esthetic maven, she was also a sweetheart. In those few hours they were sipping coffee, swapping stories, making each other laugh, and creating memories, Kyle had to admit he developed a soft spot for her. He had always adored her, certainly; Karen had always been the best out of his friends’ siblings growing up, but now he was starting to befriend Karen as herself, not just as Kenny’s baby sister.

So of course, he couldn’t say no to her when she started playing with his hair. Karen had worked so skillfully, too. She somehow managed to braid his hair without hurting him once. Unlike now, when the untying process was almost too much pain to bear.

Stan got up from the bed, heading to the private bathroom attached to their bedroom, “Hey, do you have any more of that detangler spray? That might help.”

“I think I ran out a week or so ago,” Kyle answered, rubbing a tender spot on his skull, “I don’t remember buying a new bottle.”

Stan searched the bathroom anyway, releasing a grunt of frustration when he couldn’t find anything. He came back, slumping himself over the bed, “I’m sorry, Kyle.”

Kyle lightly chuckled, throwing himself down beside him so that their sides pressed together, “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault I’ve got the devil’s curly red hair.”

“Oh, stop it,” Stan mused, leaning in closer, “Let’s just say it’s Karen’s fault for braiding it in the first place.”

“Mmn. My fault for letting her,” Kyle smiled fondly at the recent memory.

“Do you think she’d be able to untie it?” Stan asked through a yawn. He was tired. It was late.

“Even if she could, I don’t want to wake her. She has school tomorrow,” Kyle scooted closer on the bed, ducking the backside of his head when he offered, “Do you want to keep trying, Stan? I think it’s almost loose.”

“I don’t think I should,” Stan simpered.

“What? Why not?”

“No, I really think I should stop.”

“Come on. You’re doing fine, Stan. Much better than I could do.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m going to hurt no matter what you do.”

A pregnant silence filled the room. For a moment, neither Stan nor Kyle moved a muscle. They remained as they were on the bed in total stillness, sprawled supine with their ribs pressing, staring at the popcorn ceiling, both unwilling to make a sound.

It was Kyle who spoke first.

“I think we need to talk,” he said, his voice sullen.

Stan took Kyle’s hand.

“You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, we can’t just pretend this stuff didn’t happen. There are a lot-” Stan didn’t finish the thought. He just squeezed Kyle’s hand, “-What do you want to address first?”

Kyle felt something light and airy titillate his heart, watching the way Stan was carefully treading. He was trying so hard. Stan was putting forth his utmost to be placid and genuine, even with the heavy problems they were going to address. He was dewey-eyed as they held each other’s hands, and Kyle couldn’t help but be moonstruck.

Stan was effusive in his tenderness, and Kyle felt like he had to go easy on him. Stan was being so kind, so gentle; that meant Kyle had to do the same. He had to sugarcoat the conversation.

He could afford to brush aside the Anti-Semitic insult for now. He could spare Stan that kind of heavy load tonight. There were other things to address, anyway.

“Can we talk about Maple?” he asked as gingerly as he could.

The puppy in question was currently sleeping in her padded bedding on the floor of the kitchen. Yes, Maple had her own bed; Kyle was still stunned by the fact that animals could have their own beds. He didn’t know if it was a requirement for all pets or just an overbearing gift of affection from Stan, but either way, the concept of it was still bizarre to him.

The entire ownership of a dog was bizarre to him.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you were gonna bring her up,” Stan said, but not with malice, “You avoid her like the plague, Kyle. What’s wrong?”

As if on cue, there was a sudden  _ scratch scratch scratch _ of Maple’s claws from the other side of their bedroom door.

Kyle gasped, and then nervously laughed, “It’s like she  _ knows _ we’re talking about her…”

“She only wants to come in and play. She’ll go back to sleep as soon as she realizes we’re not getting up.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

“Why are you so uncomfortable around her? Are you afraid of her?”

“God, no! She’s just a baby. I’m not afraid of dogs, and I’m sure not as hell afraid of Maple.”

Stan offered a soft smile; everything about him was gentle, “Such a strong reaction. Are you sure? There’s no shame in-”

“-Yes, Stan, honest. I’ll get used to her, I will. I just don’t want to focus on her right now.”

His coffee-colored eyes flickered back and forth across Kyle’s face, like he was trying to understand something, “What is it you want to focus on? I thought you wanted to talk about Maple.”

“Well, partly about her,” Kyle said, sitting up from his position on the bed, reaching to grab the piece of paper he left on his nightstand, “While we were cleaning the mess from the pet store earlier, I couldn’t help but find the receipt.”   
He passed over the paper to Stan, who took it with careful hands. He eyed it carefully, slightly confused when he asked, “And? It looks normal to me.”

“The  _ charge, _ Stan,” Kyle said as delicately as he could, “You paid a lot. You paid with debit, thank you for that, you know I don’t like using credit. But that’s the problem when you use debit, you’re taking from  _ our _ account, not just yours. The charge was so high it gives me the impression you didn’t go in with a budget, you just went in and bought anything and everything you felt like. You know how I feel about that.”

Stan took a deep breath. Then he folded the receipt paper and laid it on the nightstand.

“Kyle, I-” he rubbed his hand over his mouth, “I feel like you’re not being fair to me.”

“Not fai-... Sorry. Go on.”

Stan kept his hand over his mouth, even as he went on talking. It must be a new habit of his; he was doing it a lot these days, “Kyle, I’m not trying to-... call you out, or anything when I say this, I’m just trying to make a point. You… You’re not being fair to me right now. It’s not fair for you to be strict with how I spend money on necessities for Maple when on the same day, you went and spent money on treats for yourself and Karen.”

“Oh,” Kyle said softly, docile in his surprise, “The coffee from Harbucks. I almost forgot.”

“And then putting money in Kenny’s card, and putting extra cash in his tip jar,” Stan frowned, “I don’t mind spending money on them, Kyle, I really don’t. I love them, and you love them too, so it’s fine, I get it. But it just doesn’t feel right for you to squander cash on them, but you’re so strict with me.”

“It’s different, Stan,” Kyle whispered, “We share a bank account.”

“We share an apartment, too. And we share a car. We share everything,” Stan took his fingers away from his face, “I might sound like a jerk right now. I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to argue with you. I know you’re hard on yourself when it comes to money. You’re hard on yourself about everything, so I get it. But including me in it, and then spoiling Kenny and Karen right in front of me, it just- it hurts my feelings, Kyle. It makes me feel like you have no respect for me.”

Kyle was stricken with grief. He was a hypocrite. He was a goddamn hypocrite.

“Stan,” he squeaked out, guilt seizing his tongue, “God, I’m sorry, Stan. I had no idea. I’ve been a bitch to you, haven’t I?”

“No. No, you haven’t. You didn’t know any better.”

“I really had no idea, Stan. I would never hurt you like that on purpose. I had no idea. Oh God, I feel awful.”

Stan leaned forward on the bed. He reached his hand to Kyle’s face, cupping his palm against Kyle’s cheek, “Hey, now. Hey, hey, hey… Calm down. Calm down, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you feel awful. I would never hurt you on purpose either.”

There was a flash of light from outside the window, but no sound came with it.

Then there was more light, coming in several bursts, illuminating the nighttime clouds so that they appeared purple, the sight beautifully mystifying.

“Look, Kyle,” Stan smiled, “Heat lighting.”

Kyle smiled, too, letting go of Stan’s hand, “I love heat lightning.”

“Everyone does,” the athlete jumped up from the bed and approached the window. He was dressed only in his sweatpants, his hands on his bare hips as he looked through the glass with childlike fascination.

Kyle took his time getting up from the bed. He didn’t want to risk nearly falling down again. That would certainly ruin the magic of the moment.

After he managed to stand, he went to Stan’s side, observing the silent storm along with him. The heat lightning carried on from the other side of the window pane, shining in ephemeral bursts, illuminating the nighttime clouds overhead. The storm was spellbinding, even in its silence, it was enchantingly poignant.

As Kyle watched a burst of lighting shoot across the sky, he found himself thinking of stage lights.

He wondered if Kenny had ever seen heat lighting before, and if stage lights gave Kenny that same stirring awe that storms gave Kyle.

If that were the case, he could understand why his friend chose to be an actor. Even despite the irrefutable poverty and toilsome working hours, he could see the appeal. Something about the light, the feeling of it, was sensational.

Kenny was probably feeling the same way Kyle was feeling right at this moment. He was probably onstage, moving the audience to tears, embodying the life and soul of his character with every aching joint of his body, owning the space of the theatre, and feeling the lights beaming down on him.

Kyle hoped he was. He sincerely hoped Kenny was at his best onstage right now. At least then, that would mean Kenny’s happy and worry-free.

Was it wrong for Kenny to react the way he did earlier today? Kyle didn’t know.

While it was in Kenny’s nature to be overbearingly protective, something about the way he behaved today was different. Especially when he claimed that he ‘wasn’t overreacting’ and that he ‘wasn’t even being mama bear.’ And he was right, because it really didn’t feel like he was in Big Brother Mode or anything trivial like that. His protectiveness earlier today felt more…  _ innate. _

Kenny had been overwrought. Throughout the whole conversation, Kenny was a bundle of nerves. He had flitted back and forth between anxiety, rage, horror, and grief again and again, like he was in a cycle of negative thoughts. But the second that Kyle became distressed, Kenny buttoned his lips. In a mere instant, he put all his anguish aside so that he could take care of Kyle.

That was so courteous of him. So stupidly courteous. Kenny was too empathetic for his own good. He disregarded his own pain to help Kyle. What did that make Kyle, a damsel?

No one had ever done that for him before. Not even Stan. A few nights ago, when Kyle had had that (mortifying) meltdown in the kitchen, Stan had cried  _ with  _ him. He hadn’t discredited his own feelings, he’d only offered what he could to Kyle, and Kyle had done the same for him. They had worked together, as they should do; they were a couple after all.

But it was different with Kenny.   
Kenny had given him the space he needed to pace around, but had also given him a hug when he needed it. Kyle didn’t even ask to be hugged, Kenny just knew. In his protective silence, Kenny knew.

Kyle couldn’t tell which was more belittling: the fact his boyfriend cried with him after giving him a gift and then insulting his heritage, or the fact that his best friend shied away his own feelings to give him sanctuary.

Kyle couldn’t tell which one he preferred either.

There was a bright flash against the clouds.

“That one was a good one,” Stan said in reverence, “Heat lightning is so much better than regular lighting. It’s so pretty. I love how quiet it is.”

“Hm,” Kyle contemplated, watching the storm beside him, “I don’t know. I like normal storms more, I think. Because of the sound. The sound of thunder is kind of… what’s a good word? Ornate. It sounds ornate.”

“No, no,” Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle’s waist, eyes glued to the purple clouds, “Not ornate. More like, violent. Aggressive. They’re too forceful.”

“Forceful, hm?” Kyle leaned into Stan’s bare chest, inhaling his musky scent, resting his head back against Stan’s shoulders. His body was as firm as a stone pillar after years of muscular conditioning he burdened himself with overdoing. It was hard to imagine that there was a time, long time ago, probably before they were even teenagers, that Kyle used to lean up against his chest and feel nothing but comforting softness.

Stan didn’t feel anything like that anymore.

Kyle leaned in closer, “Hey, Stan? I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, babe?” Stan kissed Kyle’s hair.

“Kenny thinks you raped me.”

A bolt of heat lightning zipped by above them, resembling a shooting star as it moved sideways across the clouds, leaving a numinous lavender shadow amongst the skies.

Kyle could feel Stan’s heartbeat quicken against his ear.

“Kenny thinks-... Oh. Oh…  _ that _ night,” Stan held him tighter, “You told him about that? Well, I mean, that’s okay… that you told him, that’s okay. I just- Oh God, Kyle, I wouldn’t do that to you. That’s- That’s just awful. I love you.”

“I know. It’s just what Kenny thinks,” Kyle tried to ignore just how fast Stan’s heart was beating against his ear, “I tried to explain to him what really happened, but I don’t think he understood. I think he automatically assumed I was the victim because I’m smaller than you.”

“Don’t word it like that,” Stan’s face revealed nothing but raw disgust, “‘Victim?’ No, no. That’s gross, don’t talk like that. There weren’t any victims.”

“You were the victim.”

“Oh, Kyle, stop. This is gross. This is so gross, stop…”

“I’m sorry, Stan, really, I-”

“-See, this is the exact reason why I wanted to avoid this conversation. I can’t take this kind of talk, Kyle, I don’t like it. I feel so nasty.”

“You don’t need to feel nasty. You did nothing wrong, Stan. It was my fault for not being the responsible one.”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying. I know, I believe you and all, unless-” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, so tight it looked like it hurt.

Now Kyle’s own heartbeat quickened.

“Stan?”

“...”

“Unless what, Stan?”

“Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“...”

“...”

“Stan?”

He released his embrace around Kyle, moving to sit down on the bed. He crouched defeatedly, his posture hunched. His expression was smeared with that disdainful look of disgust, like he was repulsed in his outrage.

“Kyle, I-” he rubbed his hands over his mouth, “-You know I don’t remember much from that night. I was so  _ drunk. _ I- I only remember bits and pieces. I only know what you told me. So if-... If there’s anything you didn’t tell m-me about that night, anything about what I  _ did, _ I-”

“-What?” Kyle’s breath was snared away, “Oh God, Stan, no. No, no, no. No, I told you the truth. I told Kenny the truth, too. It’s his own fault he doesn’t believe me.”

“You’re sure?”

Kyle moved to sit with him on the bed, “Yes, Stan, entirely. I know you would never lay a hand on me if you were in control. I trust you.”

Stan gave an exhausted smile, “You do?”

“Yes, Stan, wholeheartedly.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry, Kyle.”

“I’m sorry, too. Most of it was my fault. But-” he put his head on Stan’s shoulder, finding no softness whatsoever, “-the next time you get upset, I would ask that you talk to me. Or, if you don’t want to talk to me, do yoga or something. Talk to Kenny, even. Just don’t-”

“-Drink. I know.”

Kyle tried to ignore how uncomfortable Stan’s shoulder was against his face, “You were doing so well, Stan. Are you feeling okay?”

“I am. Really. It was just a slip-up. I don’t think it’s going to happen again.”

“How can you be so sure?” Kyle asked, and then quickly added, “No offense, or anything, Stan. I just want to know why you think that.”

“Slip-ups just happen. It’s okay, though. ‘cause we get better afterwards,” Stan gave a weak smile, “You’re going to hate this example. But like- it’s like when Maple had an accident on the floor a few days ago. It was an accident, she didn’t mean to do it. But now she knows better, and she doesn’t do it anymore. Slip-ups happen, but we learn from them. So it’s going to be fine, Kyle.”

“Maple still fucking teeths on everything…” Kyle accidentally let himself mutter.

Stan only laughed, “Don’t pout, Kyle. She’s house-trained now. Be happy about that. Teething isn’t something we can change, it’s just a thing puppies do while their teeth grow in.”

“Yeah, but her gums bleed fucking everywhere. It’s not fun to clean up blood. I feel like a serial killer,” Kyle was only pretending to be upset at this point, knowing that his grumpiness was making Stan lighten up a little.

“She doesn’t know any better. She’ll learn, babe.”

Only when Kyle was certain that Stan was comfortable, he asked, “So what happened that day that made you so upset?”

Stan hesitated, “... Nothing. It was just a bad day.”

“What made your day so bad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why were you sad?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know?’”

“I just don’t know, Kyle.”

“How can you not know?”

“Kyle-” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, “Kyle, I don’t  _ know, _ okay? I just don’t. I don’t know why I have bad days sometimes or why I feel the way I sometimes do. People don’t have to know how they feel, they just  _ feel. _ There doesn’t have to be a reason behind it, there’s just-...  _ feelings.” _

Kyle took Stan’s shaking hands in his own.

He didn’t really know what to say, because secretly, he disagreed. He wasn’t an “it is what it is” kind of guy, he was a “go look it up in the encyclopedia” kind of guy. Kyle firmly believed there was an explanation behind everything. In his opinion, almost any instance could be justified by science, and everything else can be explained by the torah.

Even feelings.

Feelings were hard. That was an understatement. But even feelings could be explained.

“Look, I’m sorry I was drinking, but it’s over now, right? My face is all better. You’re all better. There’s no sense in talking about this anymore, we’ll only depress ourselves,” Stan kissed Kyle’s hands before rising from the bed and going back to the window.   
Stan tried to smile, “For now, let’s just watch the lightning, yeah? You love lighting.”

“Stan…” Kyle’s throat was itching again, “I know this kind of talk is hard for you, but it really would be good for us to-”

“-It’s so pretty, Kyle, come look at it. It’s so pretty. Come look, I know you love lightning.”

“I’ll look later. Right now, I really want to talk about-”

“-There was lightning the first time we had sex. And thunder. Do you remember that? We were in your bedroom, the night before a science test. I think it was eleventh grade. Do you remember? It was going so great and then all of a sudden, it was just-  _ crash!  _ Remember? Of course you remember. It was- I took your virginity that night, of course you remember. There was so much thunder it was like- it almost made my ears bleed. Everything was great, everything was so perfect, and then it was like-  _ boom!” _

“Stan… What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle stared in bewilderment.

The athlete was faced toward the window, but something about the look in his eyes gave Kyle the impression that he wasn’t looking at the heat lighting. He turned around, and Kyle could see the tears welling in his eyes when he said, “Kyle, you know I love you, right?”

Kyle’s heart broke.

He should have been more cautious. In his own anxiousness, he had forgotten to consider that the severity of their situation burdened not only Kyle, but Stan as well. Not only that, but Stan seemed to have the worse end of it.

Just because Stan had a slip-up in his mental health, his face was clawed until he bled. Just because Stan shared a bank account, he was chastised and rebuked for every purchase he made. Just because Stan bought a gift to express his love, he was burdened with a sobbing, pathetic mess of a boyfriend. And just because of Kyle, Stan was accused of rape by his best friend.

Kyle lowered his head in shame, “Yes, Stan, of course. I know you love me. You tell me every day.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“Can you say something other than ‘of course?’”

“Indubitably, Stan. I’m sure.”

Stan’s eyes went dark, scarily dark.

But only for a second.

It faded quickly, and he went back to having those overwhelmed, hurting, coffee-colored irises. He looked so pathetic, so  _ heartsick. _

“Tell me you love me,” he nearly sobbed, “You never say it. Why do you never say it? Please tell me you love me.”

God, Kyle was the  _ worst. _ He must be the bane of Stan’s existence at this point. All this pain Stan endured, it was all because of  _ him. _

“Stan,” he was practically choking on the name, “I-I’m sorry, I thought I told you… I just- I don’t like to say it. If- If you say something too many times, it loses meaning. And I don’t want our relationship to lose meaning, Stan, please understand.”

“No, no. That’s not true, it’s not,” Stan was begging now, “I say it all the time, and we haven’t lost anything. You- You never say it. Please say it. Just this one time. Please tell me you love me! You never say it!”

Kyle could give in so easily. It was so  _ simple. _ All he had to do was say it.

But something was holding him back. Some invisible force snared away the words and rendered him blank. He tried so hard to speak, but it felt like something was choking him from the inside out.

“I- I can’t-” Kyle quivered, entirely horrified by his body’s reaction.

Stan threw himself on his knees at the foot of their bed, “Tell me you love me! Tell me! Tell me  _ please!” _

“N-No, no please, I-”

_ “-You love me, don’t you?” _ Stan’s hands were raised out in front of him, inches away from Kyle’s throat, “You love me, you love me. Don’t you? Don’t you love me? Tell me you love me, Kyle, please. You never say it! You never, ever tell me you love me! You love me!  _ You love me!” _

The bedroom door  _ slammed _ open with an intensity that made Kyle quail. There was a flash of blonde running past him at the speed of light, and the next thing he knew, none other than Kenny McCormmick was on the floor with Stan underneath him.

Kenny had Stan pinned to the ground, straddling his legs and keeping his sun-tanned arms firm on Stan’s shoulders as he stooped over him menacingly.

Stan must have been too shocked to move a muscle, because his mouth and eyes were both as wide open as could be, his stare deadpan in surprise. He couldn’t even bring himself to speak.

But Kenny was far from wordless.

_ “Get your fucking hands away from him, you fucking fucktard! What the fuck were you fucking doing fucking yelling at him like that?! And with your fucking hands in the air, don’t fucking think I don’t fucking see what you’re trying to do, you fucking-!” _

“-Kenny!” Kyle shrieked. He launched up from the bed and tried to yank Kenny up from Stan, who was still petrified in shock.

Kenny barely budged, “Kylie, go away for a sec, just- _ just let me-” _

_ “-No, Kenny!” _ Kyle yanked harder, “Stan hasn’t done anything wrong! Get the hell away!”

Despite Kyle’s efforts, the scamp was unyielding. His blue eyes were ablaze not with anger, but with passion. Passion and, strangely, a hint of sadness. Kenny was desperate in his assail. It was like he was  _ needy _ in his offense.

“Kenny!” Kyle cried.

He was so aggressive in his pulling that he wondered how it was possible he hadn’t ripped Kenny’s arms off. He pulled, and shouted, and pulled, and shouted, and pulled until eventually he couldn’t contain the vexation seething through him, and he snapped.

He punched Kenny across the face.

Kenny didn’t flinch. He  _ never _ flinched when Kyle snapped, not even now.

But he did stop. He rose up from the floor, slowly, composedly, his face void of life. When he was standing, he offered his hand down to Stan to help him up, but Stan slapped it away.

Stan ogled at Kyle crazily, like he had grown a second head, while Kenny just stood there somberly.

Kyle was so guilty that he felt like puking. He could actually taste the bile in the back of his throat. As if Kyle couldn’t feel any worse, Karen rushed inside, gasping. But even despite how much Kyle adored her, he couldn’t afford to pacify her right now. There was someone else who needed him.

“Come on, Kenny,” Kyle’s voice was dry and chalky. He took Kenny by the elbow, not raising his gaze to meet his, “Come with me to the kitchen. I’ll get you some ice for your face.”

Stan didn’t even get up from the ground as they started to leave without him. Karen meekly stepped out of the doorway to let them through.

Kyle tried not to look at her. He tried not to look at anything but his bare feet against the tile as they moved into the kitchen. He gathered a dish towel and packed it with ice from the freezer, but his hands were shaking so much he dropped a few chips of ice.

Kenny’s hands were steady when he took the ice-pack. Too steady. He pressed it to the side of his face. His cheek was bright red and probably hurt like hell, but he didn’t even flinch when the ice made contact with his skin.

“Thank you,” Kenny said blankly.

“Kenny, I’m so sorry.”

Kyle was burying himself in self-flagellation at this point.

It went unspoken that when kids grew up, they had to leave childish things behind. That meant no more playing, no more roughhousing, and especially no more resorting to physical violence out of fear. It was an unsaid law. Assault as adults could land them in prison, for one thing. But even more devastating than imprisonment was just the  _ guilt _ behind it.

He hit Kenny.

He  _ hit _ Kenny.

He hit  _ Kenny, _ who was only trying to help.

It seemed as though Kyle was making a habit of hurting the people who tried to help him.

“I’m so sorry, Kenny,” he repeated, tasting the vomit at the back of his throat again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m-”

“-Jesus Christ, Kyle,” Kenny smiled sheepishly, the ice-pack against his cheek, “You’re fine. Don’t get mad when I say this, but you ain’t near as strong as you used to be. You barely touched me. It’s okay, Kylie. I don’t even think it’s gonna bruise.”

“I still punched you, though…” Kyle couldn’t stop staring at the red mark on his face.

“Pssh. Yeah, well, I went mama-bear on Stan. So we’re even.”

“That’s not how it works, Ken, you can’t just-” Kyle choked when he realized, “-Shit. Stan. Oh my God, Kenny, why did you do that to Stan?”

Kenny shrugged as if it were nothing, “He was freaking me out.”

“Kenny, I mean it. Why did you do that?”

“I mean it, too. He was freaking me out,” he readjusted the ice-pack, “I got a guy to cover my shift at the gym, so after my shows ended, I came over here. I heard him yelling like a maniac, then I kicked open the door ‘n see him with his hands getting near you. The dude was freaking me out. I did what I shoulda done.”

Kenny’s nonchalance was irking under Kyle’s skin.

“Stan wasn’t going anything wrong. You attacked him for no reason!” he hated the words the second they left his mouth. He was being hypocritical again.

“He was giving me bad vibes!”

“He’s been good to me all day! He apologized, Ken, he told me how much he loves me!”

Kenny blinked “He apologized?”

“Yes, he did,” Kyle took a steadying breath, “I did, too. And we’re okay. We spent the last hour talking over our problems. The things I did to him, I-... I mean- I mean to say that there’s a lot more I understand now, about us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, y-yeah, really. I understand where we went wrong, and… well, yeah.”

“You’re all good?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Yes.”

_ “Really  _ sure?”

“Kenny,  _ please.” _

The blonde licked his lips, “O-Okay. I’ll stop. If you- If you say he apologized. That’s good. That’s really good, actually. I’m, um, I’m happy for you.”

“Are you...?” Kyle winced.

Kenny didn’t answer the question, “How are you feeling, Kylie? What happened to you before I left? Was it your blood sugar, or-?”

“What? Oh. Oh, I don’t know. Probably.”

Kenny licked his lips again. He wasn’t even trying to hide how uneasy he was, “Why was Stan yelling when I came in?”

“He was just telling me how much he loves me.”

“Kyle.”

“He really was. He was telling me how much he loves me, and I made him sad b-because I don’t like to say it back...”

“Oh, Kylie. What do you mean you don’t like-”

“-I just don’t like to say it. I don’t want it to lose meaning, so I never say it… and I think I really hurt him…”

Kenny tilted his head in confusion, “But you say it all the time.”

“What? … No, no I-”

“-Uh, yeah, you say it all the time. You said it twice to me just within the last week or so. ‘member? In your house, you called me daft and said you loved me. Then in the employee room in the gym, you said you loved me but you weren’t going to betray Stan.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Shoot, I’m sorry, Ky,” Kenny handed back the ice-pack, “I’ll, uh, I’ll go home now, I’m sorry, I’ll go home. As long as you’re sure you and Stan are good?”

“Stan and I are fine,” Kyle squeezed the hand towel in his fist, the ice freezing his fingers.

Kenny looked like he was forcing himself to be convinced, “O-Okay, sure. It’s good he apologized. That’s- That’s great. I guess that means I can go now… Do you want me to take Karen with me, or-?”

“Yeah. Yeah that’d be good,” Kyle kept squeezing the ice-pack even though the ice was so cold it felt like his hand was burning.

Kenny’s departure was just as difficult as his entrance. He reclaimed his parka and his sister with an obvious strain for self control. He didn’t even have to say anything for Kyle to know that he was doing his best to keep composed while he was seething internally. Kenny was like a teapot, cool to the touch on the outside, but boiling on the inside, getting ready to scream.

Karen didn’t look like she wanted to leave either. But she went along anyway; Lord knows she would willingly do anything Kenny told her to do.

Only when the McCormicks finally filed out the door did Kyle allow himself to breathe. The ice in his fist was unnaturally cold, so much colder than it was when Kenny was still here, and he let it fall to the kitchen floor.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Kyle ambled back into his bedroom, his feet getting heavier with each step on the way. When he pushed open the door, he saw Stan spread across the bed, half-dressed and half-asleep.

Guilt weighing down every muscle in his body, Kyle meekly crawled into bed beside him. He was welcomed with relief when Stan opened his arms and embraced him, pulling him into his chest as they lay together on the bed.

Stan was trying so hard. Stan loved him so much, and Kyle did nothing but hurt him.

Kyle coughed on phlegm in his throat, “S-Stan, I-”

“-It’s okay,” Stan pressed a kiss to his forehead, “It’s okay, I forgive you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to ailurodelrey for creating fan-art for this story! This is the first time anyone's done fan-art for something I've written before so I am... gushing.  
> I'm actually so moved that I'm at a loss for words. It's like... this fic actually means something to people??? You /all/ have been so kind to me with your comments last chapter!! I was not expecting so much support! Thank you exponentially <3 I promise I acknowledge and appreciate all your thoughts and words, and I don't take your kindness for granted.
> 
> I hope this chapter is good enough to be something y'all deserve after all your support!
> 
> You can find @ailurodelrey on Instagram and Tumblr. Here is a link to their (beautiful, stunning, and gorgeous) piece:  
>  _https://www.instagram.com/p/CFP5ukaJv0t/_

Most people hated Mondays. But Kenny really, really hated Mondays, and he _especially_ hated _this_ Monday in particular.

It didn’t help that he didn’t have anything to look forward to tonight; he didn’t have another play to do until Thursday. Add that disappointment to the fact that he was still exhausted from his Sunday performances, so he was groggy and miserable, even without having worked his shift at the gym. Combine all of that with his overbearing worry and emotional turmoil, and he’s got himself one shitty Monday.

Kenny was just not having it today.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle.

The punch Kyle threw at him didn’t hurt. Just like he predicted, it didn’t even bruise. In hindsight, Kenny kind of deserved the punch, because nothing violent was going on when Kenny stormed in, but he still launched an attack. Kyle was merely acting in defense when he punched him.

In blatant honesty, Kenny didn’t mind their skirmish. He really didn’t give a shit that it happened. He body-slammed Stan, Kyle punched his face, and that was that. It felt just as simple as the horseplay they used to have as kids. The fight was in the past, and it didn’t bother him.

What bothered him was the stuff Kyle had said.

He didn’t understand. Kyle had assured him that Stan apologized, and then told him something strange about saying ‘I love you,’ and then went morosely silent, keeping his head low and refusing to even look Kenny’s way. None of it really added up. Even though Kenny had been intently listening to every word Kyle said, it felt like he only picked up on every third word. There was so much going on that he didn’t understand, and it crushed him how little he knew.

Kenny was just _not_ having it today.

That’s why he didn’t answer his phone at first. He was sprawled over the side of his chair, his limbs dangling lazily, playing Animal Crossing, watching a sexy movie, and eating cereal straight from the box all at the same time. Clearly, he was too ‘busy’ to answer the phone.

But when it just kept ringing and ringing, he groaned annoyedly and picked it up.

“Fuck you,” he said to the caller, not even bothering to check the ID.

_“Kenny, it’s Wendy.”_

“Oh shit. What’d I do this time? Whatever it was, it wasn’t me.”

_“No, it was.”_

Even through the phone, Kenny knew she was smiling.

_“And believe me, Kenny, you_ want _to be responsible for this one. I need you to get down to the theatre right now.”_

He glanced back up at the movie, “But I’m busy.”

_“I know you aren’t. Get down here. Right now. Please.”_

Kenny suppressed a groan, knowing Wendy would give him the evil eye if he sighed at her. Women were such sticklers.

He glanced at his watch. Karen was still in school right now, probably passing notes in class on those small pieces of pink paper she liked to decorate.

Poor Karen. She hadn’t said a word since Kenny took her home. The entire ride back, she sat with her arms crossed, holding her tongue, and looking out the window. She didn’t say anything this morning either, not even when Kenny cooked her favorite breakfast.

If it had been anyone else, Kenny would have reason to believe he was being dealt the silent treatment. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Karen, and Karen never went silent on him intentionally. Even in moments of emotional turmoil, Kenny and Karen told each other everything.

If Kenny had to guess, he would say that Karen was silent because she was still trying to process everything. There were a lot of things about yesterday that needed to be digested before they could be addressed. To be honest, Kenny was in the same situation she was. He hardly understood anything about yesterday, too, so it’s not like he could blame her for going quiet.

He only felt bad that Karen was involved in the first place.

He hoped that school could distract her enough, maybe even brighten her day. Maybe he could get Tricia to have another sleepover with Karen, even though it was a school night.

Now that Kenny thought about it, Kenny realized that Kyle was in school right now, too. College, yes, but school all the same. He wondered if Kyle was doing okay, and if he was paying attention to his professor, and if he remembered to take snacks to class with him— little things that Kenny had never wondered about before. They were the tiniest of inklings, but they consumed his mind nonetheless. Right now, these thoughts felt _far_ more important than Wendy’s nagging on the other line of the phone.

“Wends. I’m _busy._ I had a rough night, okay?” he drawled, “Why d’ya need me to come down to the theatre anyway? Is the stupid spotlight overheating again?”

_“No, but I still need you to come down here.”_

“Why?”

_“It’s a surprise.”_

“I don’t care.”

_“Kenny, I_ really think _you should-”_

“-Wends, please. I’m busy as a bumble bee right now. What could possibly be so important?”

_“Fine. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but you leave me no choice, you ass. There was a talent scout in the audience last night. He’s here right now. He wants to talk to you.”_

“... I’m on my way.”

* * *

**Group Chat:**

**Parka dude:** _yall free tntgt?_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _is that last word supposed to be ‘tonight?’_

**Parka dude:** _u free?_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _no_

**Parka dude:** _wat? nooooo. y?_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _football game._

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _but even if I was free, I wouldn’t want to hang_

**Daywalker:** _*even if I WERE free_

**Parka dude:** _Ky, yur on??? R u free?_

**Daywalker:** _No, I’m in class. Stop blowing up my phone._

**Parka dude:** _wait Stan y not?_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _Idk maybe because you freaking ATTACKED ME_

**Parka dude:** _I APPOLOGZIED_

**Daywalker:** _*apologized_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _UM NO YOU DIDN”T_

**Parka dude:** _i didn;t? oh. sorry dude i thot i did_

**Daywalker:** _*thought. Ken, you do not want to use the word ‘thot.’_

**Parka dude:** _i do actually. js not in front of your bf ;)_

**Parka dude:** _no but rly, sorry I scared you Stan. i was a fkn idiot. i get kinda crazy on impulse_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _it’s okay. Thanks for apologizing. Tbh, it was a weird night for all of us. I was kinda out of line too. I don’t think any of us were thinking clearly._

**Parka dude:** _we all good then?_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _yeah. I think we’re good._

**Parka dude:** _YAY. but srsly tho can y’all hang tnght? I got news_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _crap I’m sorry, Kenny. I really am coaching a game._

**Parka dude:** _can yu cum by later?_

**Daywalker:** _KENNY!!!!! IT’S *COME_

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _sorry again dude. Personal training client after my game. I’m usually booked on Mondays. I think Ky’s free though._

**Parka dude:** _Ky?_

**Daywalker:** _Yes, as long as I can close the bookstore in time. I’d like to talk to the two of you as well. I also have news I need to share, and I’d rather share it sooner than later._

**Stannyboyyyyy:** _ugg I feel like a dick. Sorry I’m not free. I’ll just have to hear the details later. You guys can hang out. I’ll get the neighbor to watch Maple since we’ll all be out._

**Parka dude:** _fiiiiiiiiiiiiiire_

**Daywalker:** _Sure. What time, Kenny?_

**Parka dude:** _asap but not rly. whenev u can_

**Daywalker:** _*As soon as possible, *but not really. *Whenever you can._

* * *

As luck would have it, Karen had a history report to write with Tricia that night, so she was off at the Tuckers’ house for a sleepover. Meanwhile, Kenny meandered around his house looking for something to do while he waited for Kyle to show up.

It was too late to treat him to dinner, so it wasn’t like Kenny could whip up a meal to impress him. There wasn’t a point to putting on a film either, because if they were going to talk, the noise from the screen was going to be a major distraction. If Karen were here, there was the ridiculous possibility that Kenny and Kyle could get nails and makeup done together as they talked, like rich housewives at a salon, but Karen wasn’t here, and the idea of it was impossibly stupid to begin with.

He had never felt like he needed to impress Kyle before, so he had no idea why he was thinking this way today. It almost felt like something innate deep inside of him was driving him to earn Kyle’s appreciation. It was a weird feeling, and he had no idea why he was experiencing it. He was surprised by how disappointed that he couldn’t do anything to impress him. Kennny was practically crestfallen, and he had no idea why.

However, Kyle didn’t seem to mind.

When he arrived at Kenny’s doorstep, Kyle looked so happy that it took Kenny’s breath away.

He thought Kyle would have walked in still burdened from the tense conversation in the kitchen, but instead, Kyle was miraculously beaming from ear to ear. It was easy to believe from his presence alone that the events from last night didn’t take place at all. He looked so happy that Kenny almost didn’t recognize him.

Seriously. Kenny almost didn’t recognize him.

He remembered Kyle being the hardboiled daywalker with an upturned nose and a sarcastic glint in his eyes, but instead he found himself facing a ball of sunshine. Kyle’s green eyes were alive with a zealous passion that Kenny hadn’t seen in forever.

When he greeted Kenny, he was breathless with glee, “Hey, Ken. Thanks for having me over tonight!”

Kenny stared.

Then he (internally) slapped himself out of it.

He stepped aside, holding the door open, “Well, somebody’s havin’ a hell of a Monday.”

“No, siree,” Kyle smiled as he walked in, shouldering off his coat and hanging it up on a hook, “I’m having a _heaven_ of a Monday. What about you? How’s your day?”

“Well, my day certainly did a 180 for me,” Kenny gave a low whistle.

“A good 180 or a bad 180?”

“Hard to say right now.”

Kyle looked at him strangely, “You okay, Ken?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Kenny found himself flushing at Kyle’s concern.

Kyle’s mouth was turned downwards in a pout, “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m all good, Kylie. You adorable thing, you,” Kenny teased in an effort to blow off his blushing, “Anyway, come on in. Mi casa es su casa.”

He moved on to his living room, jumping over the back of his couch and crashing down on the cushions. (Even in his own house, he had no respect for furniture. The world was his jungle gym.) He patted the spot on the couch next to him, ogling at Kyle with a silly grin.

Kyle just rolled his eyes. He tucked his shoes neatly in the corner before sitting down on the couch, folding his legs and facing Kenny, “So. What’s your big announcement?”

“All in good time, Kylie, all in good time. First thing’s first, uh,” Kenny ran his hand through his hair, “I, uh, wanted to ask how you were feeling?”

Kyle tilted his head, “How I’m feeling?”

“Well, not to be blunt or anything, but the last time I saw you, you weren’t looking so hot. You almost fainted, ‘member?”

“Oh,” Kyle snorted, “How could I forget? Yeah, I’m fine. I’m feeling okay.”

Kenny tried to not be overbearing when he pressed on, “Karen said your glucose dropped.”

“That might’ve been it. I mean, I certainly felt better after eating dinner, which is good, but I’m not really sure. We were having a tense conversation and then things just got… woozy.”

“D’ya think you should see a doctor or somethin’ Kyle? It ain’t a good sign if it happens more than once.”

Kyle avoided eye contact, “I was thinking about going, yes. But I don’t think I can see my doctor anytime soon.”

“Oh. Why not?”

Kyle held his tongue.

“Ky? Why can’t you see your doctor?”

“Well, don’t call me a dirty Jew or anything, but the reason is money.”

“Kyle, I would never call you that! That’s awful! What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d call you that? And whaddya mean you’re havin’ trouble with money?”

Kyle forced a shrug, “I don’t have any insurance, for one thing. We also lost a lot of money after getting Maple. She’s really expensive, you know. So for the time being, there are no finances to spare.”

“By ‘we,’ do you mean Stan?”

“Kenny, watch it,” Kyle ordered in a warning tone.

“Sorry, sorry… um… So you can’t go to your doctor at all?”

“Probably not until I get another few months’ worth of paychecks. But there’s no need to worry about it, Ken,” Kyle said, and then rolled his eyes, “I say that knowing you’re going to worry. You worry about everything. But realistically speaking, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, so it’s not like I need to go to a doctor anytime soon. I’m fine.”

Kenny silently wondered how many times Kyle was going to say ‘I’m fine.’ And he wondered if he ever really meant it.

He buzzed his lips, trying to brush off the tension, “Hey! Snacks!”

Kyle hesitated, “Snacks?”

“I just realized! It’s too late for dinner, but we can have snacks! Do you want anything? I’ve got just about everything!”

Kyle was pinching the bridge of his nose, but he was still smiling, “Kenny McCormick, you are an enigma.”

“You hungry, Kylie?”

Kyle sucked his teeth, “You know what? Fine. Fine, I’ll eat something. Sure.”

“Yesss,” Kenny hopped up from the sofa, bounding over to his kitchen and tearing the cupboards open, finding a very appealing bottle of pinot, “How ‘bout a nice wine to start us off? I’ve been craving wine for, like, three whole minutes now.”

“Does it come from a Jewish winery?” Kyle called from the couch.

“Uh,” Kenny scanned the bottle, “I dunno. Why?”

“Grape products have to be made by Jews in order to be kosher.”

“What, seriously? That’s a weird law,” Kenny paused, “No offense. I didn’t mean that.”

“None taken,” Kyle mused, resting his head on his hand as he leaned into the couch, “Do you have anything else? Now that we’re talking about food, I’m actually starting to get a little hungry.”

“Uh, yeah sure,” Kenny left the cupboards and opened the fridge, “Ooo, I almost forgot we had these! Karen made ham-and-cheese toasties the other day.”

Kyle pressed his lips, “Dude, I’m sorry. I can’t have pig, and I can’t have dairy with meat.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re good, Ky. We got plenty of food in here…” Kenny assured, despite his growing pity, “Um, let’s see. Cupcakes?”

Kyle winced, “Sugar-free?”

Kenny winced too, “Erm, no. Sorry. Uh…” he stepped aside, “Hey, how about you just come over and pick something out?”

“Yeah, good idea. Sorry I’m so high-maintenance, Ken,” Kyle rose from the couch, visibly quite embarrassed when he had to join him in the kitchen.

“Dude, you ain’t high-maintenance,” Kenny encouraged, giving him space to explore the cupboards as he pleased, “I’d much rather take time to find food you can eat than have you end up going into a diabetic coma or getting sent to Jewish hell or something.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, a playful pout perched on his lips.

Kenny couldn’t tell which he liked more: Kyle’s genuine smile or his teasing pout.

Kyle ended up picking a brand new box of animal cookies. The label read that it was kosher-approved and that the sugar content was well within his safety zone. Kenny had completely forgotten he owned that box in the first place. Animal cookies were his favorite snack when he was a little kid, but he stopped eating them when he was about ten or eleven years old, saying that they were “too babyish” for him.

He regretted that idea entirely, because right now, Kenny believed that animal cookies were the greatest feast that the universe could offer.

They dumped the box onto a silver platter (something that Kenny only ever brought out for Thanksgiving or Christmas) and poured orange juice into wine glasses to bring an even greater sense of elegance to their fine dining. After an overdone toast and faux introduction of their banquet, Kenny and Kyle rolled over each other on the couch and broke into hysterical laughter.

“Fucking animal cookies!” Kenny squeaked out through gasps of laughter.

Kyle wiped at his eyes as his laughter calmed down, “I love this. Why don’t we do this every night?”

“Ah, I wish we could! That would be so much fun! It’s not fair we have to _do_ stuff in our lives, we should just be able to hang out here, with OJ and fuckin’ animal crackers,” Kenny groaned, leaning back against the couch.

“Let’s schedule a time to do this again.”

“Agreed. As soon as flippin’ possible. How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Sorry, I can’t, I’m doing something special tomorrow night. But we should aim for sometime this week, definitely,” Kyle took a sip from his wine glass, “We should invite Stan next time.”

“Nah. We shouldn’t.”

Kyle took a long pause, “Kenny, things are fine between us now.”

“I know,” Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, “You keep sayin’ that, but can you blame me for worryin’?”

“Not really,” Kyle said, a sort of endeared glint in his sad green eyes, “I know it’s in your nature.”

“And just- the _subject matter,_ Ky. It’s intense. How d’ya expect me to _not_ worry?”

“Kenny,” Kyle said, entirely too calm, “Stan apologized. He didn’t mean what he did. He loves me.”

“I know… but-”

“-We had a good talk last night. We addressed a lot of our problems and I realized where I went wrong. We’re both going to do a lot better. Believe it, Kenny, because I mean it. Stan has been an angel to me all day.”

“O-Okay. If you say so.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Kyle didn’t snap when he asked it, which, in all earnestness, was not what Kenny expected. Kyle asked it calmly, inquisitively, like there wasn’t an angry bone in his body. He asked it like he wasn’t the same pithy, fiery redhead that Kenny grew up with, like he was an entirely different person.

Kenny swallowed, his throat tight, “Kylie? Can I ask you somethin’?”

“...”

“...”

“I don’t know. _Can_ you?”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Kyle Broflovski, _may_ I ask you a goddamn question?”

Kyle smirked, “Sure thing. What would you like to know?”

“Why, um-...” for a second Kenny wondered if his question was stupid, “-I’d like to know why you don’t really seem to get angry these days?”

Kyle was quiet for a moment.

“I, uh, I know it’s a weird thing to ask, Kylie. Sorry. I’ve just been noticin’ it and it’s kind of… weird. And, like, concerning.”

“No, it’s not weird, Kenny.”

He raised his head hopefully.

“I’m glad you noticed, actually, because I noticed it, too. And it’s okay,” Kyle gave a halfhearted shrug, “I’ve been thinking about it, and my theory is that my short temper is only… something of my childhood. I think the reason why I’m not quick to anger these days is because I’ve grown out of it. Does that make any sense?”

“Wait, holdup. Are you- Are you saying you don’t get angry at _all_ anymore? When was the last time you were angry?”

“Maybe a month ago? Two months? I don’t even remember, that’s how long it’s been. I wasn’t even angry when Stan brought the dog home, I just got quiet and started crying,” he gave a sad chuckle, “I wanted to be mad at him, but I just didn’t have it in me. I grew out of it. I guess I’m just… more mature now.”

Neither of them pointed out that Kyle made that statement while he was eating animal cookies and drinking orange juice from a wine glass. Quite the paradox.

Nor did either of them point out that in terms of appearance, Kyle looked way too young to call himself mature, meanwhile Kenny looked old enough to call himself mature and have it be an understatement. A paradox indeed.

Kenny felt something heavy sink in his chest, “So you just-... You don’t get angry anymore?”

Kyle shook his head no, like it was the simplest thing in the world, like he didn’t care at all.

But Kenny cared.

He loved Kyle’s hiss-fits. Kyle stressed over everything, he was so sarcastic that it was annoying, and he was relentless when it came to usurping his stance in an argument, and Kenny loved it. He loved the way Kyle rolled his eyes too much, and the way he stuck his nose up when he knew he was winning a debate. He loved the way Kyle never took bullshit from anyone, and that he always fought for what he believed in, even when he knew he was going to lose the battle. Kenny revered Kyle’s fire so much that he practically idolized him for it.

But now Kyle was saying that the fire was out.

“Oh,” Kenny said.

He could have acted. He easily could have put on a face to hide his disappointment, but he didn’t. He just let the stake pierce him in the heart.

Kyle must have noticed his sadness. It wasn’t like Kenny was doing anything to hide it.

Kyle frowned at him. Then he pursed his lips together, reached over to the plate of animals, picked up a particular cookie, and dropped it in Kenny’s palm.  
“Here,” he said, “I found you a bear.”

Kenny smiled. It was stupid, but he still smiled.

“D’aww, Kylie,” he grinned sheepishly, “Sweet Jesus, aww… Shit… Woah. I don’t wanna eat this. I wanna, like, put it in a trophy case or something. Holy shit, I’m developing an emotional attachment to a bear cookie.”

Kyle was smiling too, “Kenny, you’re amazing.”

Kenny tucked it into his pocket, patting the fabric so he knew it was safe. Then, he downed his orange juice in a single gulp and declared, “Okie dokie, no more twiddling thumbs!”

“Time to share news?” Kyle proposed, “You said you had good news, right?”

Kenny faltered, “Well… Well, I never said I had _good_ news. I said I had _news,_ yeah.”

“Oh,” Kyle faltered too, “Do you- Are you okay, or-?”

“-You go first, Kylie.”

“But Kenny, if you’re-”

“-Don’t worry ‘bout it, I wanna hear your big news!” Kenny cheered, getting comfortable on the couch in anticipation, “You have good news, doncha?”

“No.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow.

Kyle smirked playfully, “I have _astounding_ news.”

“Bitch, spill the tea already! I’m dying here!” Kenny exclaimed.

Kyle got up on his knees, like a schoolgirl at a slumber party, when he proclaimed, “Ike’s visiting this week!”

Kenny felt his heart melt with endearment. Sweet Jesus Christ, Kyle was so excited to see his little brother. ...Kenny wondered if he acted like that about Karen… He probably did. Wow... Now he knew what it looked like from the outside to love a younger sibling so devotedly. It was so cute that it was pathetic. Just wow.

“Kylie,” he couldn’t help but flush with happiness, “Dude, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! What’s the occasion?”

Kyle leaned forward excitedly, “I got a call from Ike earlier today. He said that his class is travelling to the States for some research work in Denver. His university isn’t providing hotels for the students or anything, and since Denver is so close to here, he asked if he could stay with me at the apartment. I said yes, of course, and now he’s going to spend the week with us!”

Kenny’s blush disappeared in an instant, and his adoration did, too.

Kyle’s brother wasn’t visiting him. He was only mooching off of him for a week while he got some schoolwork done. And Kyle didn’t even see it.

But Kenny didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Kylie, that’s- that’s- what’s the word you used? Amazing?”

“Astounding.”

“Right, right. That’s- That’s astounding, Kyle. I’m really happy for you. I’m glad that you have something to look forward to. I, um, I really hope the two of you have a great time together.”

“We will, I’m sure of it!” Kyle smiled innocently, “So, what about you? What’s your big news?”

Kenny coughed, “Don’t get excited or nothing, I don’t wanna get your hopes up, ‘cause I don’t really know how ‘big’ this news really is…”

“Oh come on, Ken. What’s your news?”

Kenny pried his gaze away so he wouldn’t have to look at those innocently excited green eyes anymore. He rubbed his hands together as he started talking, “Well, Wends hailed me down to the theatre earlier today. ‘pparently, a talent scout was there and he wanted to speak with me.”

Kyle’s jaw dropped, “No shit! Oh my God, what did he want to talk about?”

Kyle was getting excited, and that made Kenny get excited, too. Kenny was speaking with rapid speed now, rushing through his words all in one breath.

“‘pparently he worked for some film and performing arts gig. He told me they were holding season auditions this week and he asked me to audition. Don’t freak out or anything, Kylie, this don’t mean anything. Auditions are just- Well, usually they don’t mean anything at all. But I mean, it’s still exciting, right? And he asked for my resumé and some headshot photos, so that’s a good sign. Oh, and he also gave me his calling card, and that’s a really, really good sign, but I don’t know. I’m tryna not get my hopes up, but I mean, I think this is gonna be fun! I haven’t- Well, I haven’t really worked out the details yet, but-!”

-he forced himself to stop so he could take a breather.

And the exact second he stopped talking, Kyle threw his arms around him.

“Holy shit, this is _huge!_ Oh my God, Ken!” he cried, squeezing him in a tight hug.

Kenny laughed out of delighted surprise, exalting in the feeling of Kyle’s ribs pressed against his own, his arms clasped around his shoulders, “Kylie, what the fuck?! It’s just an audition!”

“Ken, don’t say that! What if this kickstarts a major career for you? This could be monumental! He fucking gave you his calling card!”

“Kylie!”

“Oh God, I’m so excited for you!”

“Come on, stop!” Kenny whined. He pushed Kyle off of him. He almost regretted it, but felt an instant joy when he saw that Kyle was still gaping at him with adoration.

“Dude, I’m so excited for you!”

Kenny groaned, “Gah, _stop!_ Before you make my head get big, stop! I ain’t gonna walk in with a big-ass ego!”

“Fine, fine,” Kyle smiled, “But keep your hopes up, Ken. I know you’re going to blow him away.”

“I adore you.”

“Still?”

“I still adore you. Don’t tell Stan.”

Kyle smirked playfully. He leaned back against the couch, taking his orange juice and bringing it to his lips, “So when’s the audition? And where?”

“That’s the thing. Uh, it’s in New York. The Big Apple, haha,” Kenny laughed nervously, “And it’s throughout this whole week, drop-in, but I probably have to go either Tuesday or Wednesday, because I have to get home to do my play on Thursday. And then I need to figure out what to do with Karen... Ug, _schedules!_ This is hard. I feel like a grown-up, haha...”

“Wait, hold on,” Kyle leaned in, “What day is your flight? You’re flying, right?”

“Yeah, I’m flying. I haven’t scheduled a flight yet, but you don’t hafta-”

“-No, I’m just saying, I’m picking Ike up from the airport late tomorrow night, because it’s supposed to be the only night this week that it’s not storming like hell on earth. South Park’s airport is really small, so I’m sure they have room on a flight to New York tomorrow. If you book a flight for tomorrow night, I could take you to the airport, since I’ll be going there anyway. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Kyle said with a shine in his eyes.

Kenny’s heart melted all over again, “There’s got to be a flight to New York tomorrow night, right? There’s got to be! And hell yeah, they’ll have room for me. Even if they don’t, I’ll crawl into the luggage compartment. That’ll be so much fun! Shit, yes, let’s do it! Take me to the airport tomorrow night!”

A bolt of lighting struck down in the distance, thunder booming down, making both Kenny and Kyle flinch, and then double over in laughter.

“I’m sure _that’s_ a metaphor for something!” Kenny nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his hair, “Mama Universe must be tryna tell us something.”

“Hm,” Kyle looked at his watch, “I think Mama Universe is telling me I’d better get going.”

Kenny was _way_ more destitute than he should have been, “Aw. What, seriously? No…”

“Yeah, sorry,” Kyle stood from the couch, “I want to get home before it gets late. I don’t know if I said this before, but I really can’t drive well in the dark.”

“Oh,” Kenny sighed, “Well, that might be for the better, then. ‘cause the storm might break soon anyway.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to get caught up in bad weather,” Kyle slipped on his shoes at the door.

“You could always stay here for tonight, Kylie,” Kenny offered, completely oblivious to how pitiful he sounded.

Kyle smiled for a little too long, “Thanks, Ken. But I’ll be fine. Stan and I will both be. And I’ll text you when I get home so you don’t worry.”

“Funny,” Kenny smiled, “‘cause I was just about to ask you to do that.”

“I know, you’re sweet like that,” Kyle glanced downwards nervously, and then giggled, “Sorry, that was weird. Um. Pick you up tomorrow night?”

“Yessir! I’ll have my bags packed.”

“Okay, great. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

“Me too.”

“Me too.”

“...”

“Sorry,” Kenny was gushing, “This is awkward now, huh?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Kyle winked, “Good night, Ken.”

“G’night, Kylie.”

Kenny didn’t get up from the couch. He didn’t move one muscle, actually, not for several minutes. He was only waiting patiently until he felt his phone buzz:

**Daywalker:** _ Hey, just wanted to let you know I made it home. All safe. Take care, Ken. I look forward to driving you to the airport tomorrow. _

Kenny smiled to himself, rereading the message again and again until he had it memorized. Moving away from the text, he went to edit Kyle’s contact information:

**Daywalker’s** _name is now_ **Kylie <3**

He patted the bear cookie in his pocket, finding comfort in knowing that it was close to him.

Kenny was falling. He was falling hard.


	11. Chapter 11

“Holy mother-loving shit, Kenneth McCormick, if you do not get your hands away from the fucking window controller, I will bite off your fingers and staple them to the wall.”

“I adore you.”

“Yeah? Well, tough shit. Because adoring me is  _ not _ going to get you out of trouble if you break my car just because you  _ insist _ on driving me up the walls by opening and closing the windows.”

Kenny decided that he loved car rides with Kyle.

He couldn’t remember the last time it was just the two of them in a car together. Actually, now that he thought about it, there was probably  _ never _ a time when it was just the two of them in a car together. Alone, that is. They had driven with Stan plenty of times before, and had gone on countless other occasions with Eric Cartman too, back when they were still kids. But now it was just the two of them in a car, as adults, and it was a new and exhilarating feeling.

Kenny loved it, and for Kyle’s sake, he gave in. He stopped fiddling with the car windows, blowing air out of his lips, he poted, “Jesus. So much for being nice to me before my trip to the Big Apple.”

Kyle was quiet.

For a moment, Kenny thought that maybe he had offended him, and that made a flash of guilt run through him.

But then he realized that Kyle was only focused on the road. It was a habit of Kyle’s that Kenny picked up on; when driving, Kyle had the tendency to drop off mid-thought or mid-sentence, going silent as he drove until he sporadically picked up again, like a buffering Internet video.

Kyle was silent until the car shifted lanes. Then he gave a half-smile and said, “Kenny, I’m literally driving your ass to the airport. I  _ am _ being nice. The least you could do for me is not break the car that’s taking you there.”

“C’mon. I can break the windows and the car’ll still move.”

“So you admit you’re trying to break the windows!”

“Am not!”

“Kenny!”

“Don’t yell at me, I can’t help it! I’m jittery, okay?” Kenny nervously laughed, looking at his reflection in one of the side mirrors.

Kyle kept his grip firm on the steering wheel when he looked over at Kenny, “You don’t need to be nervous. You’re going to blow everyone away. He gave you his call-”

“-His calling card, I know, I know,” Kenny started messing with his hair, looking at his reflection, “But I ain’t really nervous about the audition, per say.”

“You’re nervous about going to New York, then?”

“A little. I’ve never travelled by myself before.”

Kyle bit his bottom lip, “I wish you had enough time to explore the city and enjoy it.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I don’t need a vacation.”

“No, but you deserve one.”

Kenny smiled a little too earnestly.

“Aww, thank you, Kylie. Really. I ‘ppreciate it. But I don’t really need one,” he was still fussing with his hair in the mirror, a tad more aggressively now, “Also, if I did go on a vacation, I wouldn’t wanna go to a city. I’d choose a beach or some remote countryside. ‘n I wouldn’t wanna go by myself either.”

Kyle stopped the car at a red traffic light, “Right, you’d want to take Karen. Good call. I’m sure she would be upset if you went on a solo-vacation without her.”

“Prolly not, to be honest. She’s getting really independent these days. I doubt she’d miss me.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You know she loves you more than anything. Oh, speaking of Karen, are you sure you don’t want her to stay with me and Stan while you’re gone?”

“Kyle, yes, I’m sure,” Kenny was getting fed up with his hair now, ruffling it incessantly while he talked, “It was her choice to spend the week with Tricia. Besides, I want you to have fun with your brother this week. You don’t need to be distracted takin’ care of her while I’m gone.”   
Kenny didn’t tell him that there was also the possibility that Karen was afraid of being alone with Stan and Kyle for a while. Maybe not “afraid.” Just… hesitant.

The last time Karen stayed with them was the time Kenny stormed into their bedroom and attacked Stan, after hours and hours of unease and distance in the Marsh-Broflovski apartment. Then Kenny had to take her home, and neither of them had spoken of the subject since then. Who was to say what poor Karen thought about the whole situation? The last thing Kenny had wanted was to involve her, but now she was deeply ingrained in whatever was going on, and there was no escaping it.

Kenny began to resent himself for that. He kept messing with his hair in the mirror. He was getting upset now.

While the car was stopped, Kyle reached over and helped Kenny fix his hair, muttering, “Quit that. You look good. You’re fine.”

“I know, I know… Wait, just ‘good?’ I’m  _ sure _ I look better than just ‘good!’” Kenny forced himself to laugh, batting away Kyle’s hands.

When the car started moving again, Kyle cast a playful smirk, “Sure. And for the record, your little sister’s so-called ‘independence’ doesn’t hold a candle to my little brother’s independence.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Where’s the snarkiness coming from? Are you starting a sibling war with me?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not fair!”

“How is it not fair? Afraid of losing?”

“I’m saying it’s not fair to compare them!”

“Sure it’s fair. They’re the same age. Roughly.”

“No shit, really?” Kenny was surprised, “I always thought he was a lot older. I mean, actually now that I think about it, didn’t he grow up pretty early?”

“Very early.”

“Puberty hit that kid like a  _ truck. _ I remember him goin’ 180 on you or something like that.”

“Yeah exactly. God, those were shitty times for me. He went from being my best friend to absolutely despising me in a heartbeat.”

Kenny cringed, “Really? That’s awful. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if Karen did that to me.”

“It’s fine. He grew out of it. Mostly. He’s seventeen now, but he really does behave like an adult. He’s really mature. He also skipped a few grades back when we were in school, and that’s why he’s already a year-...”   
He was doing that thing again where he dropped off. Kyle was quiet until they safely drove through a dangerous intersection, and then picked up where he left off.   
“-ahead of me in university. He got a full ride, actually. All academic scholarships,” Kyle said with an underlying tone of pride.

“Dude, that’s fire. He’s a smart kid. I really hope the two of y’all have fun together,” Kenny said, and he really meant it. His first impression on Ike’s visit wasn’t a positive one. He was still operating under the impression that Ike was only here to mooch, but Keny still had hope that the Canadian could prove him wrong by showing that he truly did want to see his brother, and that he wasn’t only here to be a parasite.

“Thanks,” Kyle grinned, “We will. I know it.”

Kenny really hoped he was right.

Kyle pulled into the airport parking garage, cutting the engine and turning off the car. He sighed annoyedly as he looked at his watch, “Look at that. We’re early for being early.”

“What, seriously?”

“We’ve got to be at least an hour ahead of schedule. Oh, Moses,” Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed, “To think I actually thought we were going to be late!”

“You ain’t ever late, Kyle.”

“I know, that’s the funny part!” Kyle rolled his eyes, “I literally ran around the apartment like the world was ending or something. Stan was just scoffing at me the whole time. Now I definitely see why. God, I’m so histrionic.”

“Where is Stan, by the way?” Kenny asked out of genuine concern, “I ain’t heard from ‘im since Sunday.”

“Coaching a game. But he’ll be done soon. Stan, Ike, and I are all going out to dinner together tonight. Probably somewhere top-notch. You know, real expensive and high-brow like that.”

Kenny swallowed, “I thought you said you were having money troubles.”

“We’re not-...” Kyle hesitated nervously, “-We’re not struggling. We only need to be careful. We’re fine. But Kenny, you should know that even if we  _ were _ struggling, I would still indulge Ike wholeheartedly.”

“Okay,” Kenny licked his lips, “If you say so…”

His green eyes looked at him tentatively, like he was scanning for signs of a threat, “Why do you keep saying that, Ken?”

“...” Kenny snapped his fingers, “You know what I just remembered? There’s a City Wok chain in the airport. We’re early as fuck, so we might as well go get some delicacies. C’mon. Let’s go.”

He hopped out of the car and jogged around to the other side, opening the driver’s side door for Kyle, “Come on, up and at ‘em! Let’s go eat! I’m hungry!”

Kyle hesitated again, before stifling a smirk, “You’re so weird.”

He got out of the car anyway, and opened up the trunk so Kenny could get his luggage. Kenny took out a solitary backpack and an acoustic guitar case, slinging the strap over his shoulder.

Kyle blinked in surprise.

Kenny stalled, “Whatcha starin’ at?”

“Dude,” Kyle was stunned, “You play guitar?”

“Yeah?” Kenny laughed a little confusedly.

Kyle slapped a hand to his forehead, “I have known you since  _ the day I came out of the NICU,  _ and I didn’t know you play guitar?!”

Kenny laughed at his overreaction.

“God, I’m awful!”

Kenny’s laughter slowed when he realized Kyle wasn’t just complaining for the hell of it like normal. It was obvious how genuinely apologetic Kyle was. He was digging the heel of his palm into his forehead with so much force it looked like it hurt.

“Kylie,” Kenny licked his lips, “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t care. I mean, I never really talk about it, so it’s not like I made it easy for you to know. Don’t feel bad, please.”

Kyle took a long, exaggerated breath before removing his hand from his head. With a forced composure, he asked, “So, how long have you been playing guitar?”

“Um, since, like, elementary school? Around the time Stan tried to start a band?” Kenny said, speaking lightly to not upset Kyle further.

“Stan knew? Goddamn it.”

They started heading out of the parking garage, talking as they walked.

Kyle was adamant, “And you never thought to tell me that you can play?”

“It’s not like I play often, I dunno why you’re turning this into such a big thing, Ky. It’s just that being a multi-trick pony is kind of mandatory for surviving as an actor. You gotta be able to do stuff.”

“Do stuff. Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Ay! Shaddup! You’re so rude. I ain’t gonna play anything for you now.”

Kyle gave a slight smile through his frustration, “You were going to play something for me?”

“I dunno. I mean, eventually, yeah,” Kenny played it off casually. Kyle didn’t need to know that Kenny stayed up late last night rehearsing all his favorite love songs in the mirror, fantasizing about himself playing at the beach at sunset, or at a bonfire party with Kyle curled up at his side, or at the bedroom window of Kyle’s childhood home. It wasn’t until Karen had stormed into the bathroom demanding some peace and quiet that Kenny realized how much of a lovesick fool he was.

In a desperate attempt to conquer the impending lovesick thoughts creeping up in the back of his mind, Kenny slapped his hand down on Kyle’s shoulder and shouted “Tag, you’re it!” before running down the cemented pavement of the parking garage, leaving Kyle behind in the dust.

“Kenny!” Kyle exclaimed through surprised laughter. It didn’t take long before Kyle was running on Kenny’s heels in hot pursuit, pretending to be annoyed as he ran as fast as he could.

Kenny was laughing. His lungs hurt like hell from running and laughing at the same time, but he didn’t mind. The sting was worth it.

When they made it outside the garage, they continued playing tag. They chased each other across the elegant front lawn, in between water fountains, and past other cars. Kenny was a fast sprinter and Kyle was a good fighter, and that made the game exciting. Even the few times when Kenny purposefully slowed down so Kyle could tag him (which is something he would never, ever,  _ ever _ admit), he was still having the time of his life. And from the sparkle in those jade green eyes, he knew that Kyle was loving it, too.

The game ended when Kyle tagged Kenny on the shoulder, and then jumped on him excitedly.

“Got you!” he exclaimed through ragged breaths, his cheeks flushed from all the chasing.

Kenny gave an exaggerated groan, gently shoving Kyle off of him, “Fuck! I lose! Damn. I guess this means I have to pay for City Wok.”

Was losing the game a ploy to ensure that Kenny would pay for the food instead of Kyle? Maybe, maybe not. Another thing Kenny would never admit.

“We’d better stop running before we get inside,” Kyle said, taking deep breaths as he bent over on his knees, “We don’t want to scare the guards into thinking anything.”

“Good call. You’re smart.”

“Thank you,” Kyle took his time to breathe for a while longer, before getting up, “You’re fast.”

“Eh, well, you’re persistent,” Kenny readjusted his backpack. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from addressing the fact Kyle took a little too long to catch his breath.   
He motioned to the front doors of the airport, “Shall we?”

“Mmn. We shall,” Kyle hummed, still in that rare playful mood that made Kenny’s heart melt.

They made it through the airport security with no trouble and little questions. The food court was as bountiful and delectable as ever, and it  _ smelled _ that way, too. The line for City Wok was long, obscenely long for food that was only slightly better than hospital cafeteria food, so Kenny told Kyle to claim a table while Kenny went to stand in line. He didn’t want Kyle to have to stand for too long, especially not after all that running. Kenny ordered more food than he probably should have, partly because he didn’t know what Kyle wanted, but also partly because he wanted to be generous.

Kyle’s jaw dropped when Kenny came back to their table carrying two armfuls of food trays.

“Kenny. What the actual fuck.”

Kenny simpered, “What? I’m peckish! I got cravings! Maybe I’m pregnant.”

Kyle could only roll his eyes as he helped Kenny assemble all the food on the table. It was a small table, built for only two or three people, and it barely held all the boxes of aromatic faux Asian cuisine. There was so little room that a few boxes actually threatened to fall off the table.

But Kenny didn’t mind. He clicked his pair of chopsticks together and winked at Kyle, “You hungry?”

“I am now. It smells so good,” Kyle opened up his own pair of chopsticks.

Kenny was about to dig into some dumplings, but stopped himself to ask, “Wait, hold up. Is any of this kosher?”

“Some of it, from what I can see,” Kyle said as he scanned through the boxes. A genuine smile was plastered to his freckled face, “Thank you for asking. That’s actually really courteous of you.”

“What? No it ain’t,” Kenny mumbled while he took his first bite of dumpling.

“Sure it is. I mean, sometimes when Stan cooks, he forgets to ask, and then by the time dinner is ready, it’s too late to take out the non-kosher things and I have to go without eating dinner for that night,” Kyle fiddled with opening a package of miso soup, “So yeah, it is courteous. Thanks.”

Kenny had to hold himself back from seething, “That hardly sounds healthy.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It doesn’t happen often,” Kyle looked at the array of food in front of him and smiled sadly, “Stan would kill me if he saw me eating this stuff.”

Something sharp tugged at Kenny’s chest.

Kyle noticed, and he blanched as well, “Oh, Ken, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. Stan’s fine, too, he just- you know, cares. He cares a lot. He just worries about what I eat. He doesn’t want me to get sick.”

Instead of feeling endeared, Kenny just felt guilty, looking around the table piled high with fatty, oily, starchy, junk food— food that could easily clog arteries or send diabetics scrambling to take their insulin as soon as possible.

“Shoot… are you gonna get sick again?”

Kyle looked just as guilty as Kenny felt, “Oh God, Kenny, I didn’t mean that. You’ve done nothing wrong, don’t worry. I took my insulin this morning. I’m fine.”

Kenny was really starting to hate those two words.

He found himself automatically replying, “Okay. If you say so.”

He wondered if Kyle was starting to hate those words as well.

“Is Stan-” Kenny found himself accidentally getting nervous, “Is Stan, uh, is he- like, anorexic? Or something?”

He expected a greater reaction from Kyle, but the redhead just pursed his lips in thought, and then calmly said, “Or something. I think he’s orthorexic at best.”

Kenny was stress-eating from the table at this point. He didn’t even realize it. He was just shoveling food down his throat in an effort to help himself remain calm and composed for Kyle’s sake. After swallowing his third helping of rice, he said, “I don’t mean to be, like-... I don’t know. I don’t mean to tell you what to do or nothing like that, but, like, have y’all considered sending him to… you know, therapy? Or even going to a couple's therapy? ‘cause, I mean y’all have some baggage… No offense.”

“We have discussed it in the past,” Kyle said with a maturity far beyond his years, “Counseling for Stan, not couple’s counseling. Right now, we’re not in a place where we can afford anything like that. We decided that when we have enough money, and if he still needs it, we’re going to get him a counselor for addictive behavior and depression. He used to go to AA meetings regularly, which were great because they didn’t cost a dime.”

“Why’d he stop going?”

Kyle gave a sad shrug, “Because he was doing better. Really, he was. And he still is. He’s far better now than how he was when we were kids. Even you can’t deny that.”

Kenny didn’t know how to respond. So he just ate a tub of Beijing Beef.

Kyle looked at him softly, “Ken, come on. It’s alright.”

“‘m jus’ hungry.”

“You worry so much for us, it’s not fair for you,” Kyle said in his trademark strict tone, “We are not incapable of caring for ourselves, Kenny. We’re doing fine. You can afford to relax. You do enough for us.”

“Oh, that reminds me!”

He fished through his parka pockets to take out his ring of keys. He slid the keys across the table to Kyle and said, “The three of y’all can stay at my place while I’m gone if you want. Take my truck if you need it, too. Whatever you want. Mi casa es su casa. Otra vez.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Take it.”

“Kenny!”

“What?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “It’s like you literally don’t listen to a single thing I say. I tell you to stop being overbearing, and you give me your house and truck for a week.”

“What’s the problem?” Kenny stuffed some Kung Pao chicken in his mouth, “My house is bigger anyway.”

It looked like Kyle was trying to be angry, but he seemed too endeared to really feel it. He was smiling despite himself, bashfully shaking his head.

“Oh God, Ken. What am I going to do with you?...” he muttered, taking the keys, “Thanks. I’ll look after your house while you’re gone. However, I can assure you that Stan, Ike, and I won’t be staying there.”

“Whatever floats your boat, my dude,” Kenny shrugged, “Say, while we’re talking about the little squirt, when’s Ike supposed to get here?”

Kyle glanced down at his watch, “Real soon, actually. His flight should arrive around the same time yours departs. That’s in roughly fifteen minutes.”

“Really?” Kenny was stupefied, “Wow. Well, shit. I guess time flies when you’re having fun.”

Kyle quirked an eyebrow, “You’re having fun?”

“It’s always fun when I’m with you, Kylie.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is!”

“What about that time I hit you? Were you having fun then?”

There was an immediate dip in the atmosphere. It went from warm and ambrosial to cold in a matter of seconds.

Kenny’s heart ached as he watched Kyle sadden in front of him. His gaze was downcast and his voice was somber when he said, “I still feel awful about that, Ken. You can’t even fathom how much guilt I feel. That didn’t need to happen to you. I know these words mean so little, but I really am sorry that I punched you, Kenny.”

At first, he was speechless. Kyle’s remorse was so heartfelt that Kenny felt it, too.

“Kylie… dude, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Kenny took a shaky breath, “It didn’t even bruise.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m weak these days. No need to rub it in,” Kyle muttered bitterly, “I still punched you, and no, that’s not okay.”

“I, uh… I guess I kinda deserved it?”

Kyle looked at him like he was insane, “No, Kenny.”

“No, wait wait wait! Hear me out!” Kenny exclaimed. He had to choose his words carefully as he went on, “I mean, I dunno. I was just being really… improvisio. But like, in a bad way. And you, being the little genius moderator you are, you tried to talk some sense into me, but I wasn’t listening. So like, it’s sorta my fault. I drove you to take it to the next level. I pretty much had it coming.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I ain’t.”

Kyle looked at him strangely. Not in a rude or degrading way, but in an almost perplexed way.

It was weird to see Kyle look so confused. He was the smart one, after all.

But Kenny meant what he said. He went back to eating Kung Pao chicken, talking out of the corner of his mouth inelegantly, “I ain’t sorry. I apologized for scarin’ Stan, yeah, but not for jumping on him. I still love the guy to death, don’t get me wrong, but I ain’t apologizing for my actions.”

“No one is asking you to apologize for your actions, Kenny.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Kyle was avoiding eye contact, “I’m not saying what you did was justified, but- I mean, I get it. I understand why you did it, and that there was no malice behind it. I don’t want to simply say it’s ‘fine,’ because that seems too simple, but it  _ is _ just as simple as that. It’s fine. I know you love Stan.”

“I love you, too,” Kenny said before he could stop himself.

There was a beat of silence.

Kenny finished the tub of chicken.

Then Kyle’s phone buzzed.

A smile emerged on his face, one as bright as the sun. His eyes twinkled like dewdrops on blades of green grass on a warm summer day. His happiness was so vibrant that Kenny could  _ swear _ he felt the sun beaming down on his face.

“Ike’s here,” Kyle said, though Kenny already predicted that was the case.

A mere second later, Kyle blanched, “Shit.”

Kenny panicked, “What?!”

“Dude, we’ve got to get you to your flight.”

Kenny laughed out of sheer surprise, “What?! No way!”

“Dude, you’re going to be late,” Kyle jumped up from the table, snaring Kenny by the elbow and pulling him up from his seat, “Come on! We’ve got to get a move on!”

“So much for ‘no running in the airport,’” Kenny mumbled as the two of them picked up a jog.

Even while they were running, Kyle snorted, “Kenneth, I am  _ not _ going to allow you to be late on your trip, which could, by the way, be the most important trip of your entire life, just because we were eating fucking Shitty Wok. Now, move those legs!”

“Yessir!” Kenny gave a mock salute.

He let himself be pulled by Kyle through the hallways to his departure gate. While it was true that Kenny was faster, it was strategically a better option to let Kyle lead. There was an unsaid law of the universe decreeing that short people knew how to weave in and out of crowds with the ease and grace of a swan. Maybe it had something to do with their more ground-level perspective? Kenny didn’t know the logistics behind it. He was just along for the ride, letting Kyle lead him down the crowded hallways at a rapid pace.

They were both winded by the time they made it to Kenny’s gate. People were still boarding the flight. They weren’t late.

They stopped to catch their breath, but then broke into exhausted laughter.

Kenny placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, “Tag, you’re it.”

“Damn,” Kyle said through his laboring breaths, “Guess I’ll have to wait til’ you’re home from New York to get you back.”

“Ooo, bold of you to assume you’ll get me back,” Kenny winked, “I’m looking forward to chasing you again.”

“Ha!” Kyle laughed breathlessly, “I’m sure as hell  _ not _ looking forward to running from you anymore!”

Kyle giggled, and Kenny’s heart soared.

This felt right. Something about this, this moment with Kyle, was just so right. To be here in the airport, surrounded by nothing but strangers and fluorescent lighting, and to experience the unadulterated exhilaration and allure that only Kyle could give, felt  _ right _ for Kenny.

That’s why it felt so natural when they kissed.

Because that’s all it was: natural. The kiss wasn’t momentous or explosive. Kenny’s heart didn’t jump out of his chest, and his mouth didn’t give way to a new world undiscovered. Fireworks didn’t go off, and he didn’t feel himself ascend to the heavens. All he felt were Kyle’s lips against his, subtle breath tickling beneath his nose, and the feeling that this was befitting.

He was kissing Kyle, and this was as it should be.

Ike cleared his throat.

Only then did Kenny and Kyle pull away from each other.

Kenny pulled up the hoodie of his parka to hide his face.

Kyle opened his mouth, probably getting ready to unleash World War III on Kenny, but was immediately distracted when he noticed his brother in the airport with them. His expression of stun was instantly replaced by a genuine simper, “Hi, Ike!”

It would be ludicrous for Kenny to tell himself that Ike hadn’t seen the kiss. Of course he had seen it.

But miraculously, Ike gave no indication that he had, because he looked completely apathetic. He almost looked bored. He stood with a poised posture in the hall of the airport, wearing winter clothes and a student’s backpack, carrying a duffel-bag over one shoulder. He was tall, a lot taller than Kenny remembered, and he was well-built, too (that part surprised Kenny).

Ike’s expression was unreadable, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Kenny pulled his hood farther down his face.

Kyle jumped up on Ike and squeezed him into a giant hug, “I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

At first, Ike hesitated. But then he gave in and wrapped his arms around Kyle’s sides. He rested his chin on Kyle’s shoulder in the tight embrace, praising, “Hey, Kyle. Thank you for letting me stay with you this week.”

“Any time, Ike, seriously!” Kyle smiled into the hug, “I missed you.”

Ike gave a half-smile back, “Missed you, too.”   
He picked Kyle up off the ground, earning a surprised yelp from the redhead and a playful punch to the arm. Ike chuckled and put him down, opting to readjust the bags he was carrying, “Sorry that I never reached out sooner. I suppose I should call more often.”

“I know you’re busy. It’s fine,” Kyle gawked, “Shit! You got even taller! You asshole!”

“Did I? Hm. Perhaps you just got shorter.”

“Fuck you!” Kyle was giggling again.

Kenny’s chest was writhing. He really,  _ really _ hoped he didn’t act as needy and pathetic about Karen as Kyle did with Ike. This behavior was just so strange for Kyle. While it was true the redhead was an empath who offered a hand to anyone who needed it, he was still an independent, stuck-up firebrand who didn’t need codependence. To see him so clingy and happily overwhelmed was baffling. Kenny was glad that Kyle was happy, of course he was. It was still just… baffling. And it made his chest writhe in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Ike noticed his discomfort, giving an awkward wave, “Hello, McCormick. It’s certainly been a while since I last saw you.”

“Um,” Kenny bounced on his knees awkwardly, “Um. Hi.”

When Kenny’s name was mentioned, it looked like Kyle finally seemed to piece together what just happened. He flushed red, his gaze shifting to the floor.

Kenny recognized that look. It was shame. Nothing but raw, unadulterated shame.

What had Kenny done?

What had Kenny  _ done? _

The speakers overhead blared with static, and then a woman in a suit called for the final passengers on Kenny’s flight, saying they were ready to depart.

His heart was thumping like rapid fire. It felt like a heavy machine gun was roaring through his chest, bullets ripping through his ribs and piercing him again and again. He licked his lips nervously, “I, uh, I have to go. Let me- um… let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

Kyle pursed his lips in a closed-mouth smile. The smile was so forced that it made Kenny want to cry. It wasn’t even worth calling a smile.

Kenny hugged him.

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have hugged him. He really, really shouldn’t have. But he was being selfish and clingy again, and he really needed it. He was traveling to a brand new world, a place he had only seen in movies, all by himself, and he needed comfort before he ventured out into the unknown.

Kyle hugged him back. Kenny didn’t know why; Kyle had no reason to hug him back. But he did, and Kenny was grateful.

He boarded his flight with his head bowed. His backpack was heavier than he remembered it, and his guitar case was, too. As he clipped together his seatbelt and rolled up the window to see the wide open skies around him, Kenny realized something:

He wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry for pinning Stan to the ground, and he sure as hell wasn’t sorry for kissing Kyle.

He was only sorry that Kyle felt so bad.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quick notes!
> 
> Firstly, there is a reference to Ike's teacher in this chapter. I want to state that in the world of this fic, sexual intercourse did not take place between them in any way whatsoever, and I'd also like to state that I imagine Ike was older when he had her as a teacher, maybe fifteen or sixteen. This detail was not incorporated into the story to be offensive, but to serve as a little something with which I could poke fun at Ike. It is a very infinitesimal detail and can easily be skipped over or ignored!  
> I just wanted to make that sentiment clear :)
> 
> Secondly, while I'm already making a note I might as well say this. I've been super sad lately lol ;-; So many things are going haywire in my personal life, and almost all of it is out of my control.  
> I don't say any of this to whine and regurgitate all my problems in the notes. I promise I'm not about that! I have a point, I'm getting there! I just wanted to say that I was convinced I wasn't capable of uploading chapters in time, and that I might even stop writing entirely. I was surprised to discover that I'm actually writing more frequently. I guess writing is sort of an escape for me? So rest assured, you'll get your chapters in time ;)  
> I say all this to leave a small forewarning that the chapters are going to get more dismal in the near future, because that's what I'm feeling right now lol. This chapter isn't so sad, though! This one's kinda funny actually. But just know that pretty much every one after this might not be that easy to stomach.
> 
> Phew, that was a lot. My apologies for rambling! If you actually read all this, thank you that's so sweet of you ;-;  
> I hope this chapter is sufficient! <3

“So. Kenny McCormick.”

“What? What about him?”

Ike looked at him from across the table, his dark eyes prominent with a heavy layer of tease. He sneered with a monotonous tone, “I’m only saying, Kyle, with your talents and disposition, you could do so much better.”

Kyle flushed red.

His response made Ike smirk.

Kyle lurched for his glass of water and took a rushed gulp. He drank until his belly hurt, and then shoved the glass back on the table. Doing his absolute best to feign nonchalance, Kyle kept his tone as cold as he could muster, “Ike, come on. We’re just friends. It’s no fun to joke like that.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that friends could kiss each other that way.”

Damn Ike. He was the master at being condescending while showing no emotion whatsoever. It had to be the most impressive skill in the world.

“He’s just… affectionate, Ike. What can I say?”

“I can’t argue with you there” Ike gave a half-smile, “I remember he gave me a kiss on the forehead at Mom’s funeral.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky? No, Kyle. How stupid of you to think I value McCormick that much.”

“No, I mean you’re lucky that’s all he gave you. He gave me, on the other hand, ten hugs, five kisses on the cheek, and three hours worth of cuddling,” Kyle said with a hint of fondness at the memory.

Ike gave a tired sigh, “I suppose it’s just in his nature. That McCormick will never change, will he?”

Kyle was relieved. Ike believed him. Sighing on the exhale, Kyle mused, “No, probably not. But that’s okay. Like you said, it’s just a part of him.”

“You could still do better than him, though.”

“Oh, shut up. Kenny is a great person, Ike.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t,” he defended, “McCormick absolutely has respectable character traits, I won’t deny that. But he’s a gig-to-gig actor with only a high-school diploma. He can’t provide well enough.”

“Hate to disagree with you there, Ike, but you’re a little off the dot,” Kyle said, “May I remind you that he’s been the responsible legal guardian of his younger sister for roughly five years now. If that’s not dependable, I don’t know what is.”

“He can’t provide financially, I mean.”

“He owns a two-story house,” Kyle pointed out, “Stan and I are renting a one-bedroom apartment.”

“Should I be worried that you’re defending McCormick instead of your boyfriend?”

Kyle snorted, “Shut up, Canadian! I was just saying!”

He didn’t feel ashamed anymore. He just felt happy to be with his younger brother. It’s been way too long since they could laugh together like this.

“You could do so much better than Marsh, too.”

Kyle giggled. Then he realized that Ike wasn’t joking. It caught him off guard. He actually choked a little, and had to down another glass of water to clear his throat.

Kyle started to wish that he wasn’t in a fine dining restaurant right now. The topic of conversation seemed too weighty for such a decent establishment. It felt almost tarnishing to speak of domestic struggles in a place where Kyle was supposed to be pampered and contented, a place where he was supposed to  _ escape _ domestic struggles.

Kyle wasn’t necessarily nervous, he was only a little uncomfortable because he was surprised. Ike’s knee-jerk change in demeanour was sudden and random, and Kyle hadn’t seen it coming.

“Where is he, by the way?” Ike asked, taking a sip from sparkling water.

“He’s at work. He should finish sometime soon, though. He’ll be here. He’s excited to join us,” Kyle assured.

“Hm,” Ike’s lips were pressed into a firm line, “I didn’t know that he worked.”

Kyle tried to smirk, “Shut up, twerp. He’s refereeing a soccer game tonight.”

Ike pressed his lips tighter, “I didn’t know refereeing constituted as ‘work.’”

After the waitress came by and refilled his glass of water, Kyle stuck his chin up and said, “Come on. Don’t be like that, Ike. He’s my partner. He’s going to be my husband one day, which means he’ll be your brother-in-law. So you’d better learn to tolerate him.”

“Your husband, hm?” Ike gave another half-smile.

Kyle knew his brother well enough to know that a half-smile was his equivalent of a full smile. It endeared him.

“What?” Kyle let out a confused laugh, “Why are you smiling? Are you making fun of me? There’s nothing funny about that!”

“You’re going to marry Stan Marsh?”

“Yes? Is that even a question at this point?”

“When?”

“Sometime after I graduate. So maybe two or three years? Five if we want to wait until I get a decent job.”

“Hm,” Ike hummed methodically, taking a sip from his carbonated water, “And how is community college going for you?”

Kyle hesitated. He didn’t like the way Ike said ‘community college.’ While he kept his tone monotonous, he emphasized the word ‘community’ like it was some kind of disease.

“Great, as a matter of fact,” Kyle said, a small pinch in his tone, “I’m the star student in nearly all of my classes, and my job at the campus bookstore is really helping me and Stan pay the bills.”

“‘Stan and I,’” Ike pointed out.

“No. It’s ‘me and Stan,’” Kyle corrected, “It’s not helping ‘I’ pay the bills, it’s helping ‘me’ pay the bills. I was correct. You’re wrong.”

“I know,” Ike smirked, “I just wanted to see if I could irk under your skin. I know you’re good with grammar.”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile, “Thanks.”

“You’re actually skilled at all academics overall,” Ike paused before adding, “You could have gone to a university, you know. Anywhere in the country. You probably could have even gone to my school.”

“Your school? Please. As if I would’ve wanted to be a politician. No way.”

“I’m not saying you wanted to study politics, I’m saying you had—and still currently have- the potential to study anything anywhere. That’s all.”

“I know,” Kyle said. As soon as he said it, he ducked his head. He hadn’t intended to come across as so pretentious.   
“I mean-” he tried to recover, “-I’m aware I had that chance, yes. But Stan wasn’t going to school, and we wanted to stay together. So I just enrolled in the local college. We’re kept together that way.”

“And you think staying together is worth adversity?”

Ike… didn’t sound condescending. If anything, Ike sounded  _ sorry. _

Again, Kyle was caught off guard. But this time he didn’t flush or laugh, because he realized Ike’s penitence was not trivial. His brother was not one to be apologetic towards anyone; hell, Ike wasn’t one to even  _ empathize _ with anyone. He was just a standoffish kind of guy, and he never showed sympathy out of fear it would soften his indifference. But here he was, being genuinely  _ sorry _ for his older brother in a public space.

Kyle shook his head, “We don’t have adversity, Ike.”

“All couples have adversity.”

“Like you would know,” Kyle attempted a light joke to calm him down, “Are you still planning on marrying that blonde teacher of yours?”

“Oh, Moses,” Ike’s jaw was firm, “First of all, that was a  _ phase. _ Secondly, even if that's what I wanted, there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, really. The fucking president of France married his teacher.”

“You had that response ready, didn’t you? You just knew I was going to bring it up. The president of France. Ha. Nice quip,” Kyle teased, despite his rising anxiety.

“Kyle,” Ike sounded like he was getting tired, “the president of France is not my concern.”

Kyle felt his chest tighten, “Wait, Ike, dude… Why are you concerned? Just because I’m going to a community college doesn’t mean you need to worry. I’ll still get places in life. At least I’m going to college at all, right?”

“You’re not stupid,” Ike said with an intense bite, “Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m concerned about.”

Kyle was so stunned he hardly knew what to say, “Ike, why are you saying these things?”

“Why are  _ you _ saying these things? I’ve never seen you play dumb before, Kyle, I’ve only ever seen you stand up for what you believe in and speak what’s on your mind. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Kyle flinched. He didn’t know why he flinched. Even though Ike’s words were harsh, his tone was still cool and collected. It was painfully obvious how much he cared; Kyle had no reason to flinch, but he did anyway.

Ike noticed Kyle’s reaction, and his jaw clenched tighter. He took a breath and backed off, slouching back into his chair. He looked around the restaurant, scanning to assess if people were watching or not. When he was sure no one was looking, Ike reached under the table and gave Kyle’s knee a squeeze.

By now, Kyle was beyond awed. He knew his brother’s mannerisms by heart, and he knew that this was Ike’s way of apologizing. He was saying sorry in his sincerest way.

Ike was, and always had been, terrified of letting the words “I’m sorry” slip through his mouth, fearing they would break the reserved walls he worked so hard to build in his demeanour. But despite his remoteness, over the years, Ike has put his nose to grindstone finding ways to communicate with Kyle. Things got rough between the two of them around the time Ike grew into adolescence, but they managed to overcome it by developing a language of their own. They found a way to speak to each other without using words, and that helped bring them back together.

Ike was squeezing Kyle’s knee. He was profoundly sorry, and it moved Kyle deeply.

“Are we ready to order yet?”

Kyle had been so touched he hadn’t noticed the chipper waitress approaching their table. She looked a little too young to work at a fine dining establishment, and a little too happy to be there.

Kyle hesitated, looking in between the waitress and Ike, “Um, no, sorry. We’re still waiting on-”

“-Wait, no! I’m here!” came the voice of Stan Marsh as he weaved his way into the seat beside Kyle. He was dressed in his referee uniform, mud and wet grass still clinging to his cleats. He had an oblivious smile plastered on his face, like he had absolutely no clue that he was the only one in the restaurant not wearing proper attire. He gave Kyle a peck on the cheek and a kind nod to the others, “Thanks so much for waiting! The game ended up going to overtime.”

The waitress smiled in understanding, “Of course. Do you need a few moments to look over the menu?”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Stan reached for Kyle’s menu as he assured, “Just take their orders first and come back to me.”

Ike took his hand away from Kyle’s knee. He cleared his throat and ordered, “Duck confit with shallots and a side of carpaccio please.”

Kyle snorted, “God, you’re so elitist.”

Ike responded with the middle finger.

“Sure thing,” the waitress held back laughter, and then turned to Kyle, “And you, sir?”

“Thank you. I was thinking the chicken satay skewers with peanut sauce,” Kyle said.

Stan scrunched his nose, “Aw, Kyle, you don’t want to eat that.”

There was an extended beat of awkward silence.

Kyle felt his face burn, “Stan, what-”

“-Too much fat and sodium, especially in the sauce. Probably a lot of starch. It’s not good for you, babe,” Stan pointed to another option on the menu, “Do you want to get what I’m getting instead? Roasted eggplant and quinoa salad? I’m getting it with extra chickpeas for protein. Does that sound good to you?”

“S-Sure,” Kyle stammered out.

The waitress gave a tight smile. She suddenly seemed a lot less chipper. After writing down the orders, she refilled their drinks and scurried off to the kitchen.

Ike was staring. He didn’t have an ounce of emotion in his gaze, but his stare was impenetrable.

Kyle whipped around to face Stan, “What the hell was that?”

Stan looked like a kicked puppy, “Oh. Oh no, baby, Ky, don’t be like that. You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? I just don’t want you to get sick again.”

“Sick?” Ike cut in, his tone as sharp as a knife.

Stan gave him a sad smile, “Ky got sick recently, and he hasn’t been feeling well since then. Bad food is the last thing he needs right now. You agree with me in that regard, don’t you?”   
He gave a sheepish grin as he looked between the two Broflovskis and their proper attire, and indicated the sports bag at his side, “Hey, don’t worry. I promise I didn’t forget the occasion. I brought nice clothes with me. I’ll go change right now. That’ll give the two of you a little more time to catch up.”

Stan slung the sports bag over his shoulder and rose from his seat. He kissed Kyle again, and then ventured off to the restaurant’s bathrooms, standing out like a sore thumb against his surroundings.

Even though Stan was gone, his presence at the table remained. Kyle felt cold. And he felt  _ small. _ He felt like Stan was standing there, looming over him, and it made him uncomfortable.

Kyle felt a pang of guilt at his own sickening thoughts. He shouldn’t be uncomfortable around his boyfriend. Of course he understood where Stan was coming from. There was no doubt in Kyle’s mind that he would do the same if he were in Stan’s position. If Stan had been the one who was sick, Kyle would spoil him in precautions and nurse him until he got better too.

But despite that, Stan’s precautions didn’t feel… right. There was no other way to describe it. His affection just didn’t feel  _ right. _

“You never told me you got sick, Kye,” Ike said, breaking Kyle from his thoughts.

Sometimes it was a burden how little Ike showed emotion. There was no telling what thoughts were passing through his mind.

Kyle took a sip of water. He felt like he needed it. He choked a little as it went down, and wiped his mouth, “Only a little.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was only a little bit sick. It was just a small cold or something. I got better almost overnight. There wouldn’t be a point to telling you.”

“Marsh said you haven’t been feeling well since then,” Ike challenged, “What is he referring to?”

Kyle started to feel squeamish.

“I don’t know,” he lied, something wriggling in his gut, “I just haven’t been feeling… strong lately. Like, I’ve been feeling lethargic, and I fainted a few times.”

Ike’s glass of carbonated water wasn’t bubbling anymore. The glass rim was sweating profusely, melting ice threatening to spill over the lip of the cup. His drink must have gone flat.

“Have you gone to your doctor?” Ike asked evenly.

“No,” Kyle debated whether he should reveal his financial situation or not. He decided against it, “I just don’t see the need to. Like I said, I was only a little sick.”

“What if it’s your kidneys acting up again?”

For the upteenth time that night, Kyle was caught off guard.

“My kidneys? Ike, what’re you-”

“-Stop playing dumb, Kyle, we both know you’re practically a genius,” Ike demanded.   
That was a rare compliment coming from him.   
He didn’t even take a breath before he went on, “When was the last time you went to an endocrinologist?”

“Like, my last year of high school, I think,” Kyle said, confused, “He said everything was fine.”

Ike hesitated, “What other symptoms have you been experiencing?”

“No chest pains, no seizures, no comas, and nothing’s different in the way I take a piss, Ike,” Kyle assured, “I’m fine. Why do you and the guys always think I can’t take care of myself? I’m the most self-sufficient person I know, besides maybe you.”

“I’m not saying you can’t take care of yourself. I’m only implying that sometimes it feels like you  _ don’t _ take care of yourself. There is a difference, you know.”

“How?” Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed, “How don’t I take care of myself?”

“You don’t need me to answer that.”

“No, Ike. I do. I’m playing dumb, remember? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ike took a long sip from his drink. He realized that it went flat and frowned slightly. Setting the glass aside, he cleared his throat and said, “You don’t take care of yourself because you don’t permit yourself what you want. You don’t even permit yourself what you  _ need. _ You’re trying to marry your best friend while you jettison the man you’re in love with.”

Worry was starting to leak into Ike’s tone, and that sent off alarm bells in Kyle’s head. Even a little demonstration of emotion goes a long way when coming from Ike Broflovski.

“What? No, no, you’re confused,” Kyle strained to overcome his stun, “You got it mixed up. I’m trying to marry the love of my life. Kenny’s my best friend, and I’m not jettisoning him. Stan’s the man I’m in love with.”

Ike sighed like he was bored. Kyle knew better, though. He knew any display of boredom meant that Ike was trying his best to be cautious.

“But Kyle,” he hesitated, “I see the way you look at Stan. It’s not any different than the way you looked at him when you were kids.”

“Well, yeah. That tends to be the case when two people grow up together, idiot.”

“But he doesn’t look at you that way,” Ike pressed, “His feelings are more intense than when you were kids. He loves you.”

“And I love him, too,” Kyle said.

He said it. He really said it.

But Stan wasn’t even in the room with them when he said it.

There was a moment of hesitation, and then Kyle felt Ike squeeze his knee from beneath the table again.

“I didn’t mean to start anything,” Ike muttered while looking the other way.

A weight lifted from Kyle’s shoulders, “Thanks. I feel the same way. The last thing I want to do is fight with you, Ike, especially since it’s been so long. Damn it, I think the last time we spoke to each other was at mom’s funeral.”

Ike pursed his lips in thought, “You’re not mad at me?”

“I don’t like getting mad at you.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

Kyle gave a half-forced shrug, because really, that’s all he could manage.

“You didn’t even get mad at Stan,” Ike pressed while managing to restrain himself, “Is it because you said you’re feeling lethargic?”

Kyle gave another half-assed shrug. He didn’t know. But at the same time, Kyle didn’t feel so unwell that he wasn’t capable of comprehending what was going on.   
He knew that Ike was pressing into territory he never ventured before. Ike was overbearing; he was condescending in his worry, practically smothering Kyle in questions and off-handed regards. It was behavior that Kyle rarely ever saw in Ike, and to claim that it didn’t unsettle him would be a lie.

Kyle glanced around the restaurant a little nervously before he asked, “Ike, why are you here?”

“You said you would treat me to dinner,” he quipped automatically.

“No, I mean,  _ here. _ Like, in Colorado. In South Park.”

“Colorado for school,” he took a sip of his drink even though it was flat, “South Park for you.”

“Why me?” Kyle asked, his throat feeling like it was clogged with cotton.

He hated the sentence as soon as it left his mouth. It seemed like everything was about  _ him _ these days. Stan was looking out for his health, Kenny was looking out for his happiness, and now Ike was joining the bandwagon of worrying about him. It was so impeding how he became the topic of attention all of a sudden. Kyle has disliked attention for as long as he could remember; hell, he even gave up his valedictorian speech at high school graduation because he didn’t want the crowd to look at him. But now he had the excessive attention of all three of the most important people in his life.

He wondered if maybe what Ike said was true, the thing about actively choosing to not take care of himself. He didn’t downright believe Ike’s proposition, but he had to admit, if it were true, that would indubitably explain why everyone was worried about him all of a sudden.

Ike eyed him from across the table, “I didn’t realize how reluctant you were to have me visit.”

“I’m not being reluctant, Ike,” Kyle let out a strained sigh, “I want you here more than anything, you know that. I guess I’m just having trouble understanding why you show up after months of not talking to me at all, and the first thing you want to talk about is my domestic life, like I’m a home-bound housewife being abused or something.”

Ike folded his hands beneath his chin in thought, a gesture that dignified him the same way it dignified Renaissance paintings.   
“Well,” he began, “It wasn’t as though I was planning to bring up your life with Marsh. In all honesty, I wanted to stay out of your way and just do my work for university. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. But I guess seeing you, and seeing you with  _ him-” _ his confidence faltered slightly, his stern voice softening to something sincere, “r-redirected my priorities.”

Kyle smiled despite himself, genuinely moved by the truth that his baby brother was concerned about his love life. It was ridiculous and stupid, but it was heartfelt.

His smile left when he realized that he didn’t know who Ike was referring to in his statement: Stan or Kenny.

It was painfully obvious how much the two of them wanted to discuss further, but they both had to back off when Stan returned from the bathroom.

Stan was now dressed exceptionally well. He even had his hair combed back. In addition to his button-up shirt and finely ironed slacks, he wore a smile on his face that brought out a shine in his eyes. When he sat down beside him, Kyle instinctively reached for Stan’s hand.

It surprised both of them at first. After the moment of surprise passed, Stan squeezed his hand back comfortingly.

What Stan didn’t realize was that Kyle held his hand not as a demonstration of affection, but as a desperate attempt for self-assurance. Kyle felt like he needed to convince himself of something. He felt like he needed to  _ prove _ something, and holding Stan’s hand was the way to achieve it.

Ike gave a curt turn of the head; a sign that he was on-edge.

Kyle swallowed. Maybe he felt like he needed to prove Ike wrong; he needed to show him that Stan  _ was _ the love of his life and that things were fine. Because they were. They were  _ fine. _

“Hey, Ike!” Stan interrupted Kyle’s thoughts, “Sorry I didn’t give you a proper greeting yet. How was your flight over?”

Ike hesitated, apparently deep in thought, before he brought himself to reply with a condescending tone, “It certainly wasn’t up to my standards. The staff members on my plane were lazy, and the airport had mold everywhere.”

“I know right?” Stan shook his head, “It’s like some unspoken rule that everything in this town has to be shitty. I mean, even the fields my kids were playing on tonight were right next to a major construction zone. Like, every three seconds there would be a loud bulldozer to distract them or something. I felt so bad for them! They deserve better than that.”

Kyle rubbed his thumb in circles along the back of Stan’s hand, “And how was the game, Stan? Did you win?”

“Oh yeah!” Stan grinned at his boyfriend’s affection, “Ky, my kids were so freaking good tonight! They literally drove us into over-time! I’m so proud of them. I told all the soccer moms I’m gonna repay ‘em with all the juice boxes they can dream of.”

“Give yourself some credit, too,” Kyle praised, “They only won because you worked really hard for them.”

Stan beamed, “What? Ky, stop it! I’m sure Ike doesn't want to hear any of this lovey dovey stuff. Thank you, though, that’s so sweet of you.”

Kyle glanced over the table when his brother’s name was mentioned, and saw that Ike was gawking with mild concern.

Kyle raised a brow, “What?”

“Kids?” Ike asked, his eyes flicking between them rapidly.

Stan and Kyle shared an immediate blush, both of them simpering a little.

Not letting go of his hand, Stan chuckled, “Oh God, no. I  _ wish!  _ No, no, no, I’m only talking about my fourth grade soccer team.”

“You ‘wish?’”

Both Broflovskis had asked that at the same time, and shared a private glance after realizing it.

Stan flushed a deeper shade of red, “Well I mean, not  _ right now. _ Obviously! Like, I don’t know,  _ eventually.  _ Geez, Ike, you’re freaking me out, dude.”

A quick smirk appeared on Ike’s face. Clearly he liked having power over his brother’s boyfriend. The smirk vanished just as quick as it came, so it was likely Stan didn’t get the chance to see it.

Or… maybe he did see it, because now Stan was looking at Ike somewhat strangely.

“Hold up,” Stan tilted his head, “Ike do you lift?”

Both brothers hesitated. That certainly wasn’t what Kyle expected.

“Oh, fuck me,” Stan rubbed his forehead with his free hand, “Sorry that sounded super weird. I’m pretty much an idiot, aren’t I? I just- I dunno, I don’t really know how to say this without sounding like a weirdo. I just wanted to say you look really fit. Sorry.”

Ike gave a half-smile, “No, it’s fine. I have to admit, that’s quite the compliment coming from an athlete such as yourself. Yes, I’ve been getting into lifting recently. Some of my frat brothers roped me into it, and I guess the results are starting to show.”

Kyle was dumbfounded, “You’re in a fraternity?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t I know this?!”

“I didn’t think it mattered?”

“Which one?!”

“Alpha Kappa Psi.”

Stan gave a look of surprise, “Wow, I’m impressed, man.”

“Why didn’t I know this?! Nobody tells me things these days!” Kyle pulled at his hair.

“Why are you freaking out?” Ike gave a half-smile.

Stan kissed their intertwined hands, “He always freaks out. It’s just a little thing he does. He likes to complain,” he explained, as if he knew more about Kyle than Ike did.   
But Stan wasn’t done, “He’s missed you, Ike. A lot,” he let go of Kyle’s hands as he remembered something, “Say, did he tell you that he named our dog after you?”

“Dog?” Ike’s eyes narrowed, “What dog?”

“Maple,” Stan smiled, giving Kyle an affectionate glance, “We just got her. She’s the sweetest thing. You’ll meet her when we get back to the apartment. She’s so pretty.”

“I didn’t know you liked dogs, Kyle.”

In an instant, he felt both of their eyes on him. Once again, he felt uncomfortable under all the attention. He tried to play it off with a mild shrug, pretending to be distracted by a buzz from his phone. As he opened up the lock screen, he realized that he actually  _ did _ just now receive a text. From Kenny. All the way from New York City, Kenny intervened at the exact second Kyle needed him. What are the chances of  _ that _ happening?

“Hey, Ken just texted me,” Kyle automatically smiled, “He said he just made it to New York, and that he’s on his way to a hotel now.”

Stan smiled too, “Man, I’m so excited for him. I really hope this helps him blow up into fame. He works so hard. He really deserves it.”

Kyle was glad to see Stan smiling. He had been in a good mood throughout the whole evening, and Kyle was grateful for that. Even when Kenny was mentioned, and it was only two nights after the assault he landed on him, Stan was being his usual friendly and supportive self. That had to be a good sign. A great sign, even.

The food arrived, and Kyle and Ike led the table in prayer, something they hadn’t done since they were still kids living under the same roof. Stan joined in, bowing his head respectively, and that seemed to impress Ike.

As they ate, the group conversation shifted from the subject of New York, to Ike’s fraternity, to school life, to sarcastic political remarks, and inevitably, even to weightlifting, which was just about when Kyle started to tune out the conversation.

He started thinking about his kiss with Kenny.

He banished it from his thoughts. He didn’t need to worry about it. Things were great right now. He could dwell on it later. Later, he would tell Stan, and Stan would understand, and everything would be fine. He didn’t need to worry about it in the slightest. After all, they were bonding right now, all three of them. Conversation was pleasant, Stan was laughing a lot, and Ike’s defensive demeanour lessened as the night went on. Kyle had nothing to worry about.

For once, he could actually say that things would be fine, and really mean it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Part of it is a little gross. I know that's a weird warning to give, but I feel like the warning should be made anyway? Just know that there is a part with some graphic description of something icky :p
> 
> Also just a note that the storm has yet to break! This chapter is /not/ the end-all be-all of the fic. Something big is going to happen in just next chapter, actually :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

Until today, Kyle had always believed he liked being alone.

While going to football games or arcades with a large group of friends was certainly fun, Kyle nonetheless preferred reading in bed in his pajamas while a candle burned on the nightstand and a storm brewed pleasantly in the background. He liked time to himself, especially when it was storming, to bask in serenity and to allow his mind to wander.

Or, at least, he thought he liked it. Today, he hated it.

It had been a day now since Kenny left for New York, which also meant it had been a day since Ike came to visit. After the dinner they shared in the restaurant, Kyle hadn’t seen very much of his brother at all. Ike was overwhelmed with his studies. Kyle had never seen a college student work so hard before. It was quite sad, really, because even though Ike gave no indication of it, Kyle could tell that he was really disappointed that they weren’t able to spend any time together.

Ike had left early this morning to get to Denver on time. He had wanted to use public transportation, but Kyle had insisted that he take his and Stan’s car. They argued over it for almost an hour until Ike gave in, rolling his eyes and then returning to his world of being curt and standoffish, having to borrow their car to Denver.

Kyle gave a half-smile at the thought of it. That ‘argument’ had hardly been an argument. It was merely an exasperated banter, but Kyle still won. It was the first time he had won a ‘fight’ in a long time, and it almost felt good.

But had he really won? By allowing Ike his car, he essentially lost him. It didn’t feel like he gained anything besides loneliness.

Well, Kyle wasn’t exactly alone.

Sort of.

It depended on what way you looked at it.

He got home from closing the bookstore after a rather troublesome day in college. He had trouble paying attention in class, which was something that had never happened to him before. Kyle had tried his best, he really had, but he felt too dazed to understand his professors properly throughout the entire day. It didn’t help that his grades were getting lower and lower with each week. It was starting to worry him.

When he arrived back at the apartment, he was hoping to get some kind of alleviation from Stan, but was disappointed to discover a note that read:   
“Hey, Ky! Sorry I’m not home right now. I meant to text, but my phone died :( Fuck phones man.   
I got a potential client for personal training. I’m meeting with him for about fifteen minutes at the gym to see if he wants to work with me or not. I should be back really quick!!! When I’m back, how about we put on some music and watch the rain together? <3   
See you real soon! Love you!   
P.S. I made you a snacky-snack. You need more protein :p Check the fridge!   
P.P.S. I’ll only be gone fifteen minutes tops. You wouldn’t mind watching Maple by yourself for fifteen minutes, right?”

Initially, Kyle didn’t think he would mind.

But after a while of just sitting on the sofa by himself, trying to watch the rain, with that dog sitting at his feet and staring at him the whole time, Kyle was getting uncomfortable. For the first time, Kyle could say that he really hated feeling so alone.

It didn’t occur to him until now that Ike was his saving grace. Ike’s presence had distracted him from everything. Both in the airport and in the restaurant, Kyle had been so happy to see Ike that his excitement blinded him to the memory he had of kissing Kenny.

But now that he was all alone with nothing but a damn puppy and his taunting thoughts, Kyle was miserable. He had nothing to do but think, and he hated that his thoughts overwhelmed him with guilt. He had broken faith with Stan. 

What was even worse was that part of him really liked the kiss.

Kyle’s throat lurched, causing him to cry out a disgruntled sound. Maple peered at him inquisitively from the other side of the couch, curious as to why he was making noise. When Kyle realized the dog was staring at him, he placed a couch pillow in between them to act as a wall of separation, before returning to his self-inflicted tortuous thoughts.

Kyle’s actions were disgusting, but he had still managed to somehow blow off the kiss like it was a completely normal thing. He knew damn well that he had to tell Stan about this. He was going to hate it, but it was the right thing to do. After all, Kyle didn’t have any right to complain; Stan was going to hate it even more.

Stan was bad at talking about heavy topics. He tried to avoid them wherever he could. While it was excruciating on Kyle’s part, Kyle absolutely understood why: Stan was afraid of feeling sadness. He was terrified that even  _ talking _ about dark things could send him spiraling down into crippling depression again, and so he turned a blind eye to trouble at every waking second that he could.

That’s why he never wanted to talk about the night when he and Kyle... had intercourse (and that’s why Kyle spared him the details and downplayed everything when he told Stan about it). That’s why Stan forgave Kenny so instantaneously after he was pinned to the floor in his own home. And that’s why Kyle was horrified at the prospect of telling him about kissing Kenny. But he had to. It was the right thing to do.

_ Fuck you and your moral ethics,  _ Kenny once said. Maybe he had a point.

“Oh shit,” Kyle muttered when he realized what the puppy next to him was doing, “Maple! Are you kidding me right now?”

Maple was teething on the pillow-wall Kyle set up between them, the gums around her developing canines softly bleeding into the fabric, leaving behind brown and red smears.

Kyle groaned, ripping the pillow away from her jaws. He knew he wasn’t supposed to get frustrated with her for teething. She was a baby and she couldn’t help it; Stan said it was natural for puppies’ mouths to bleed at this age. It’s not like she knew any better.

But still. This was the third or fourth time he had to clean blood up from his furniture.

Maple whined at him, wagging her tail excitedly.

Just as Kyle opened his mouth to tell her that he didn’t want to play, his ears picked up on a light  _ buzz  _ coming from the coffee table in the living room. It was his phone, and Kenny was calling.

For a split second, Kyle wondered if it would be bad for him to answer the call. He debated it for a little while, and then dismissed the thought. Kenny’s audition was today. He probably had something important he wanted to talk about, and Kyle needed to be a good friend and hear it.

He swiped his thumb across the screen, answering the call.

The phone in his ear made whirrs and strange tones as it connected, before the booming voice of Kenny McCormick fired through the speakers.

_ “Kylie! Oh my fucking god, I miss you! How you be, my dude?” _

“Hey, Ken,” Kyle found himself smiling despite his tension, “I’m okay. And you? Are you adjusting to the time differences there?”

_ “Bitch, I work the night shift. Jet-lag and time differences don’t exist to me. I’m doin’ fantastic. I freaking love it here. It’s chaotic, but much less crazy than South Park. I’m actually so used to the weirdness that all the natives here are fuckin’ shocked when I tell ‘em I’m a tourist. So I’m straight vibing. I’ve had a great time so far, and I’m excited to come home tonight.” _

“Tonight?” Kyle repeated in disbelief, “You’re coming home tonight?”

_ “Yeah? I’m literally in the airport getting ready to board my flight in an hour. I mean, I won’t be  _ home _ home until tomorrow. ‘cause the second I get off my plane, I have a play to do, and then I’ll do my shift at the gym.  _ Then _ I’ll finally get to go home. Don’t you remember? I thought we went over this.” _

“Oh, it’s Thursday. I guess I’m losing track of time.”

_ “What, are you that upset that you have to deal with me again?” _

“What? No, no, no, Kenny! It’s not that! I am excited to see you!”

_ “I know. I’m just fucking with you,” _ Kenny laughed,  _ “So. Whatcha doin’?” _

“Dog-sitting Maple,” Kyle said, earning an excited yip from the puppy when she heard her name.

_ “Aw, are the two of you finally getting along?” _

“Um, more or less? I mean, I’m sitting right next to her. This is the closest we’ve ever been to each other, actually.”

_ “Pet ‘er.” _

“What?”

_ “Pet her. She probably wants some loving.” _

Kyle hesitated, “Ken, I don’t think I-”

_ “-Just try it. You don’t hafta think too much about it. Just try it for the hell of trying it. You can’t be afraid forever, y’know.” _

He had a point. So why was Kyle hesitating? What was holding him back?

“Ken, I’m not-”

_ “-You can do it, Ky, I know you can.” _

Keeping one hand clenched around his phone, Kyle lifted his left hand and placed it on the dog’s head. At the touch, he took an immediate sharp inhale. He didn’t know what he was expecting, probably for the world to collapse, but what he felt was far from that.

Maple was soft. And warm. And Kyle was touching her.

He released his breath. He didn’t know why he was holding it in the first place. She was nothing to be afraid of. If anything, Kyle should be afraid  _ for _ her. She was so small and innocent. She seemed so delicate beneath his fingers, like a clump of fluff that could be blown away by the wind. She was a living, breathing creature, and something about that was eye-opening beyond words.

_ “Kyle?” _ Kenny asked from the other side of the phone,  _ “Hey, is everything okay? Are you still there? You went silent. Sorry if I freaked you out with the dog thing, I-” _

“-I’m petting her,” Kyle said, a proud smile blooming on his lips.

_ “You are? Woah, good for you! See, I told ya you could do it!” _ he could hear Kenny laugh with glee from the other side of the call.

Maple’s tail was wagging, creating little  _ thump thump thumps _ against the couch cushions. She butted her head against Kyle’s hand excitedly, craving more touch, before jumping up onto his belly and curling into his lap.

“She’s sitting on me,” Kyle noted, surprised by her eagerness.

_ “Aww, the two of you are warming up! That’s so sweet.” _

“She’d better not start licking me,” Kyle rolled his eyes, “I don’t care how cute she is. I’m not tolerating that.”

_ “Oh come on. There’s nothing wrong with it. You ain’t gonna get rabies or nothing, you lil’ germaphobe. Just ask Stan. The dude gets licked by that puppy like a million times a day and he’s fine.” _

“Stan’s not home right now.”

_ “Oh.” _

Something changed in Kenny’s tone.

_ “What’s he doing? Working or working out?” _

“Working. Sort of.”

_ “Is Ike home?” _

“No,” Kyle’s voice dipped instantly, “He’s, uh- He has a study group late tonight. He won’t be home until past midnight.”

_ “So you’re just- You’re all alone? You’re home by yourself?” _

“Why do you sound so concerned?”

_ “I dunno. I just don’t like the idea of you being home alone. Sue me.” _

Kyle licked his lips, “Let’s-... Let’s stop talking about me. I want to hear about your audition, Kenny. How did everything go? What’d you do? Read some scripts or do monologues or something?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Kenny’s voice returned through the phone.

_ “Eh, sorry, I can’t really tell you everything, ‘cause of confidentiality reasons. I kinda signed a contract that keeps my mouth zipped shut. They’re a top notch studio, I’ll give them that! But I  _ am _ allowed to tell you that it went pretty goddamn well, if I do say so myself.” _

“Wow, if you signed a confidentiality contract for just the audition, it must be a pretty pristine company you auditioned for. I’m impressed, Kenny! And I  _ know _ you did well. Say, did you get to play your guitar?”

_ “No, but I did get to juggle the producer’s pens while telling sex jokes, so there’s that.” _

Kyle laughed. The action of it drained him from what little energy he had left, but he laughed anyway. By the time his laughter subsided, his head was a little woozy.

Maple seemed to have noticed. She pressed into his stomach more, resting her head on his knees to comfort him.

_ “-yle?” _

“Hm?” Kyle snapped to attention, “Did you say something?”

_ “Uh yeah. I asked if-” _ there were some ruffling noises on the other side of the call, before Kenny’s voice came out on top again,  _ “-You know, if- if things are, like, okay? With you? And with us?” _

Kyle blinked, “You mean the kiss?”

_ “Yeah, uh-...” _ more ruffling noises,  _ “Yeah. Are, like, are you mad at me? Because I didn’t mean to- Well, okay, I did. I did mean to, but I-” _

“-Ken, I can’t talk about that right now,” Kyle said, his tongue slick with guilt, “I haven’t even told Stan yet.”

_ “Wait, you’re gonna tell Stan?” _

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Kenny hesitated,  _ “I-... If you’re gonna tell him, can you wait ‘til I’m home and done working? I want to be there with you.” _

“No. Goddamn it, Kenny, imagine what kind of impression that would give him.”

_ “What? What kind of impression would it give him?” _

“That we’re together,” Kyle said, guilty at the mere thought of it.

_ “Oh… Oh, um… I didn’t realize that we weren’t.” _

Kyle felt like someone punched him in the stomach, “Oh my God, seriously? You- You thought-...”

_ “...” _

“...”

_ “Pssh, no, I’m joking! Relax, Kylie! Learn to take a joke, Jesus Christ.” _

“Oh,” Kyle was physically shaking now, adrenaline soaring through his system. He didn’t believe Kenny, not at all, but he had to convince himself that he did, “Forgive me, that was really stupid of me. I-I didn’t realize. You sounded so sure.”

_ “It’s called being an actor, babe, it’s kinda what I do.” _

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, he heard the door opening in the distance and could pick up the familiar sound of Stan’s athletic shoes pounding the hardwood.

“Stan’s here. I’ll talk to you later,” Kyle sputtered out, before hanging up the call and tossing his phone down on the coffee table.

At his sudden movement, Maple jumped up and barked in frustration. She lurched forward and bit Kyle’s hand, her canines clamping down on his fingers.

_ “Shit! _ Maple!” he cried out, trying to shake her away without hurting her.

“Kyle?” came Stan’s concerned shout from the front door. In a second, he was bounding into the living room to come to his aid, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Kyle managed to free his hand from Maple’s jaws and clutched it to his chest, jolting upwards from the couch in a fright.

“Maple freaking bit me!” he exclaimed, flexing his injured fingers and wincing at the strain.

“What?” Stan sounded like he didn’t believe him. He smiled and shook his head, pulling Kyle into a comforting embrace, “Hey, it’s okay. She didn’t know any better. Let’s put some ice on that, okay?”

Maple was whining now, throwing a fit as she rolled around on the couch.

Kyle stuck his tongue out at her.

Stan laughed lightly before moving off to the kitchen, talking as he walked, “Aw, she’s just a little grumpy today. Don’t let her bother you, Ky. Let’s let her blow off some steam and get you patched up, okay?”

Stan assembled a makeshift ice-pack, the same way Kyle had for Kenny. He came back to the living room and gathered Kyle’s hand in his, wrapping the ice around his fingers. Kyle flinched at the sudden chill of it, but Stan instantly soothed him with a few ‘ssh, ssh, ssh’s and an affectionate kiss.

“Hey, now,” Stan cooed, “It’s okay. It was just a little love bite. She didn’t hurt you on purpose.”

“Still hurt though,” Kyle muttered, refusing to even look the puppy’s way.

“You’ve been through worse,” Stan pointed out, before his eyes narrowed in an indistinguishable emotion, “Hey, why’re you so tense? You’re pretty much shivering. Is it the heater again?”

Shit. Was it  _ that _ obvious he was freaking out?

He shrugged, hoping that Stan would buy it.

Stan eyed him carefully. He sat down on the couch, scooping Maple up in his arms. He started to pet her as he tried for conversation, “So that potential client? Total airhead. He was so rude and inconsiderate, and overall just a big ass. I’m not taking him up on the offer.”

“Oh,” Kyle didn’t really know what to say, “Sorry.”

“Don’t say ‘sorry’ like it’s your fault,” Stan urged, “Do you, um, do you want to talk about your day?”

Kyle wanted to sit down next to Stan, but with Maple in his lap, that was the last thing on his mind. Kyle walked around the living room for a little while, before feeling like it was too awkward to be the only one standing in the room, and then plopped himself down on the floor by Stan’s feet.

He tucked his legs into himself on the hardwood, “Well, not my day specifically, but there is something I want to talk to you about.”

“Tell me about your day at school. How was school?”

Damn Stan. He knew they were headed into dark territory, and he was doing his best to avoid it.

This was going to be so hard.

“Um,” Kyle bit his lip, “School was-... not the best. I haven’t been doing well in class.”

“Liar. Sure you have,” Stan forced a smile, “You’re so smart. You’re like the smartest person I know. That’s one of my favorite things about you.”

This was too much.

Even in his obvious cognitive distortion, Stan was right about one thing: Kyle was shivering. It felt more intense than that, though, he was quivering so much it felt like he was seizing. Kyle felt like he was going to throw up, his stomach doing hurdles amidst his quaking. Bringing his hand to his heart, he clutched at his shirt manically, as he begged through clenched teeth, “Stan,  _ please. _ I need to tell you something.”

Stan’s fake smile dropped in an instant, his eyes going wide.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Kyle blinked. Taking his hand away from his heart, he brought it to the tip of his nose, where a warm liquid immediately seeped his finger tips. He brought his hand back to see that it was now red with his blood, and his whole body started to shake again.

Stan had the most bizarre expression on his face; Kyle didn’t understand what it meant, and that scared him.

Leaving Maple on the couch, Stan went off to the bathroom to grab some tissues, and then got down on the floor beside him. Without asking permission to touch him, he pressed the tissues to Kyle’s face, collecting the blood as it started to pour profusely. He tilted Kyle’s head back by his chin, so that the flow of the blood slowed slightly.

“Hey now, it’s okay,” Stan whispered, dabbing the red-soaked tissues against his face, “You’re fine. Nosebleeds happen. The storm just broke outside. Sometimes the drop in pressure and sudden change in weather makes people get nosebleeds. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Kyle pushed his hands away, “Stan, I kissed Kenny.”

Stan smiled at first, as if Kyle was telling the most innocent joke in the world. But when it dawned on him that Kyle was earnest, his smile drooped, and his hand clenched into a fist around the tissues, blood seeping through his knuckles and out from under his nails. It looked like he was squeezing a living, throbbing heart in his fist.

Stan was devastated. His coffee-colored eyes were brimmed with tears, his nose and cheeks flushing red. His lips quivered like he was a little kid, “L-Like, on purpose, or-?”

“I don’t know. It just sort of happened,” Kyle confessed. He knew how awful it sounded. Right now he wanted nothing more than to curl up and disappear.

“So, like, have you- Have you been cheating on me? With him?”

“God, no, Stan,” Kyle urged, “No, no, it- It was just a kiss, and that was it.”

Stan shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut, “You-... Ky, baby, you really hate me, don’t you?”

Kyle was starting to hate  _ himself _ more and more with every passing second.

He shook his head rapidly, almost in a panic, “No! No, no, I don’t hate you. Not at all, Stan. No.”

Stan was shaking his head, too. Except he shook his head slowly, with composure, tears threatening to slip.

“Stan, really,” Kyle pleaded, his voice hoarse, “I don’t hate you. Y-You’re my boyfriend, Stan. My  _ partner. _ You’re my super best friend, a-and I want to spend the rest of my life with you…”   
It didn’t occur to him until after the words already left his mouth that he was reiterating something Ike said back in the restaurant, that he only saw Stan as his best friend and not as his love interest. The realization of it made him start shuddering again.   
“I love you,” Kyle squeaked out between his tremors, “I love you, Stan. I-I really love you, a-and I’m so sorry I don’t say it often enough.”

Stan sniffed, “You love me?”

Kyle nodded meekly. His head was heavy on his neck, weighing him down. He curled into himself as he sat on the floor, hugging his knees against his chest.

But the second that he got into the position, he was ripped right out of it. Stan grabbed his chin and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together.

Stan leaned in further, nearly crawling on top of him as he took fistfuls of Kyle’s hair. He kissed him hungrily, passionately, for a long time, and Kyle allowed it. He didn’t know what Stan needed, but right now, Stan was making it very clear what he  _ wanted, _ and Kyle could permit him that.

His only hope was that wasn’t going to end up like the last time when-

Kyle was getting dizzy again. After Stan gave him a particularly tough bite on his lip, Kyle pulled back gasping for air.

“Wait-” he panted in between breaths, “-wait, hold on… I’m sorry…”

Stan let go of his hair first, his hands shaking in the air. Then he softly backed off, ducking his head low.

Kyle watched the way Stan’s hands were quailing, and noticed that his one fist was still bloody. He nearly gagged when he realized that meant Stan smeared  _ blood _ in his hair when they kissed.

“Kyle, you-” Stan rubbed his hand (his clean one, thank God) over his mouth, “-I don’t understand why you keep trying to hurt me… It’s like, I do so much for you, and I love you so, so much, Ky. But you just keep doing bad things to me. I don’t understand why.”

At this point, Kyle abhorred himself.

“I don’t understand why either,” he confessed, knowing how dismally loathful he was making himself out to be. 

Stan scowled, rubbing his hands over his mouth. His brow was creased with frustration, his eyes red and wet. In one seamless move, he stood up from the ground and retreated to the kitchen.

Kyle immediately knew what it was that Stan wanted, and he scrambled to get up and follow him, “Stan, wait! Hold on, hold on. You- You don’t want to drink right now, right? It’s not what you want. You know it’s not-”

“-Goddamn it, Kyle,” Stan scoffed, tearing open the fridge, “Don’t fucking stand there and tell me off like I’m the one at fault here.”

Kyle knew he was right, but he urged on anyway, “Don’t you want to do s-some yoga, or something…?”

“Right. Like yoga’s going to make it okay for you to kiss my best friend,” Stan sneered. He scanned the open refrigerator again and again before he  _ slammed _ the door shut, “Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle! You got rid of all my booze?!”

“What?” Kyle panicked, “No, I didn’t!”

“Well where the fuck did it go, then?!”

Kyle’s heart was throbbing in his throat. He didn’t know. He had never touched the stuff.

Holy shit, did that mean Stan drank it all?

Stan grimaced, shaking his head, “You really don’t trust me, huh? Getting rid of all my booze. Nice one, Ky, real nice. You go kiss my best friend after being a bitch to me for weeks, and then you get rid of the one thing that’s gonna help me get my mind off all the shit you put me through. You really hate me.”

“I love you…” Kyle wanted to cry.

Stan’s exterior softened. His shoulders drooped and he sighed deeply, “I love you, too. More than anything in the entire world. You just-... You need to be better to me. I need-” he looked around the kitchen, blinking back tears, his eyes flickering across the space like a solution would magically appear in front of him, “-I think I need some space right now.”

Kyle’s throat lurched.

Stan’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait! I didn’t mean that! I didn’t mean I want to break up with you! I don’t! I’ll never fucking break up with you ever! Not ever!”   
After he got those words out, Stan took a steadying breath and went on, “I just- I don’t want to hurt you right now… I just want to be alone. To, like, think, you know? I don’t want you to see me do bad things. I can’t do that to you again, Ky.”

Kyle really was the bad guy here. There was nothing that could be said to make him hate himself even more than he already did.

“Kenny’s in New York, right?”

Kyle nodded confusedly, unsure where Stan was coming from. He watched as Stan reached across the kitchen counter to grab a set of keys. Kenny’s keys. He dropped them into Kyle’s shaky hands.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Stan repeated, “Just leave me alone for tonight. Let me cool off. Then you can come by tomorrow, we’ll fix everything, and we’ll go back to normal, okay?”

Kyle nodded, squeezing the keys in his fist. Right now, he would do whatever Stan wanted. He would jump off a bridge if it would make Stan happy.

“Okay,” Stan said. He hesitated a moment before giving Kyle a soft kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, he gave him a nod and said, “Okay. Bye.”

Kyle nodded again. It was all he could do at this point. For a little while, he stood in place, not moving.

Stan frowned, “Ky? You can get going now.”

He nodded yet again, subconsciously going off to do as he was instructed. He slipped on his shoes and then went to the living room to grab his phone, and his breath was snatched right out of him. When Kyle saw his phone screen, he realized with horror that he hadn’t pressed the ‘end-call’ button. He had pressed the ‘speaker’ button.

Kenny had heard everything.

Oh God. He hung up immediately, pressing ‘end-call’ again and again and again, even after his phone shut off.

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Kyle could feel Stan’s dark eyes burning at the back of his head, and he couldn’t remain idle any longer. He knew he had to get going. He had to give Stan what he needed.

He gathered his phone and hastily grabbed his coat and hat, before filing out the door as quickly as he could. It wasn’t until he marched down the halls and staircase and made it to the exterior fire door that he remembered that he didn’t have his car, Ike had it. Kyle had the keys to Kenny’s truck, but the truck itself was back at Kenny’s house, and that was twelve miles away. And it was raining.

Oh God. He had to get out of here.

Fumbling with the zipper of his trademark orange coat, he pushed past the glass door and stumbled into the arctic rain. It pelted him like stinging bullets across his skin, making him gasp and flinch. It was thundering like hell on earth, surrounding him in cacophonous angst from all around. A sharp gust of wind nearly blew his ushanka away, and he had to pull down on the straps to keep it secure around his head.

None of this mattered. He had to get to Kenny’s house. Taking in a readying breath, he launched himself down the sidewalk, sprinting with all the speed he could manage, the storm overhead allowing him no mercy.

* * *

When he arrived at the McCormicks’ front door three hours later, it occurred to him that Kenny was probably on his plane right now. He was almost in South Park, but he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow morning. Kyle would have to be alone again.

Kyle unzipped the pocket of his coat, reaching around his phone to grab Kenny’s keys. His fingers were so numb that he dropped the keys to the pavement, and held his breath as he stooped down to pick them up.

That’s when he heard the distinct sound of a knob unlocking. He jolted backwards in shock as the front door swung wide open.

“Kyle?” came the concerned voice of Karen McCormick, who stood at the door in oversized pink pajamas, her hair pinned back by colorful clips. She stared at him in disbelief, scanning around him to see if he was alone, “What are you doing out here? Did you  _ walk _ here?”

Kyle’s throat was dry. It was an awful feeling to have, especially when he was soaking wet everywhere else. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he just nodded his head for the umpteenth time, rainwater pouring off of him in buckets.

“Goodness,” Karen muttered, holding out her hand to him, “Come on. Get inside. It’ll be okay.”

He felt like such a little kid, but he took her hand anyway. Karen gave his hand a gentle squeeze in her own before leading him inside and closing the door behind him.

Kyle sneezed into his other hand, which made Karen gnaw her bottom lip with worry.

“Here,” she said, tugging his hat off, “Let’s get you into some dry clothes. You can borrow Kenny’s clothes, okay?”

He nodded again. He was shivering so much that Karen had to help him out of his drenched coat, his shirt and trousers still clinging to his icy skin. He wondered if there was still blood on his face and in his hair, or if the rain had washed it off already.

Karen hurried off to the laundry room, hanging Kyle’s coat up to dry and grabbing a fresh set of clothes. She spoke in rambles and tangents, “You can take a warm bath if you want. And- And you can sleep in Kenny’s bed tonight. He won’t be home until morning. And have you eaten dinner? Do you want anything? I’m still new to cooking, but I can-”

“-Karen?” Kyle’s voice was so hoarse that it hurt to talk, “W-Why are- A-Aren’t you supposed to be at a friend’s house?”

She went pale, nearly dropping a shirt, “Well, yeah, but...”

Kyle didn’t say anything, he just waited for her to go on.

“I just-” Karen was doing her best to hold herself together, that much was obvious, “-I want to do more for you. Kenny’s just so protective that it’s hard for me to, you know,  _ do _ things. Important things. I don’t really know if he trusts that I can be a grown-up, and that I can handle grown-up situations, but I want him to let me  _ try,” _ she took a breath, “I thought that, um, well, actions speak louder than words, right? I thought that if I could show him I could be responsible by taking care of the house while he was gone, he wouldn’t have to --you know-  _ worry _ so much. And, like, maybe he’d even learn to rely on me a little more. Does that make any sense?”

Kyle nodded yet again, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Do you want to- um,” she licked her lips, “Kyle, do you like ice cream? I always have ice cream whenever I have a bad day. It might cheer you up. I- I can get a tub out of the freezer if you want.”

“I shouldn’t,” he croaked through his hoarseness, “Stan’d get m-mad at me.”

Karen’s face went blank. Her hazel eyes narrowed with a maturity far beyond her years. From the look on her face alone, it was impossible to believe that she was just a kid. She looked so strong, so ready to nurture. She looked at him in a way that made Kyle feel safe.

Kyle felt safe.

“Come on,” she held her hand out to him again, “Let’s go draw you a warm bath. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Kyle took her hand. Oh God he hoped he could trick himself into believing that she was right.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Domestic violence, physical violence/abuse

Kyle’s bathwater was too hot. It was probably only mildly warm, but after walking through icy rain for three hours, everything around him felt as hot as hell in comparison. It felt like he was being burned alive. He was wincing and cringing in pain the entire time he bathed. He had imagined that after a few minutes he would get used to the temperature, but the burning never went away.

Everything hurt. But for once, he wasn’t going to complain. He had no moral right to complain, not when a sixteen-year-old girl had to take care of him while her brother wasn’t here to help her. It was a school night, too. Poor Karen.

Right now, she was talking to Kenny on the phone. At least, Kyle had to assume it was Kenny. Who else would she be calling? He could hear her speaking from the other side of the bathroom door, trying to keep her voice low but doing a poor job at it. Kyle couldn’t make out her words, but the concern in her voice was evident.

Kenny probably finished his performance by now, which had to mean it was at least midnight. Ike would be home from Denver soon.

God, what would Ike think about all of this?

Kyle sneezed, and it made his head ache. Maybe he should get out of the tub and try to rejuvenate. Sitting around in misery never did anything for anybody, right?

He had to move slowly as he got out of the bathtub because his knees were shaky and everything felt heavy. He dried himself off with a nearby towel, and then spotted a pile of Kenny’s clothes neatly folded and waiting for him.

Kyle had to banish the kiss from his mind as he changed into Kenny’s clothes. The last person he should be thinking about right now was Kenny.

The jeans were supposed to be skinny jeans, but they hung off the frames of his legs by a few inches. The black sweater was also a little too big, and hung midway down his thighs. After dressing, he left the bathroom and found his way to the McCormicks’ living room, where Karen was on the couch watching television, apparently having finished her phone call. She smiled innocently, “Hey, Kyle! How was your bath? Do you feel any better?”

“A little,” he said hoarsely.  
He had the sudden urge to apologize, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to apologize for, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Kenny couldn’t get out of work,” Karen explained delicately, “He already had two people cover for him within the last few weeks, so he’s on thin ice with his boss. But said that the exact minute he gets off from the gym, he’ll come straight here.”

Kyle didn’t know what she expected him to say in return, so he just nodded. He stuffed his hands into the middle pocket of Kenny’s sweater and looked down at the ground, wondering if it was possible for his gaze to burn a hole through the carpeted floor if he stared for long enough.

“-le?”

He raised his head. Had Karen said his name?

She gave him a tight smile, one that was so forced it hurt to look at, and patted the spot beside her on the couch, “Do you want to sit down with me? We can watch TV if you want.”

Kyle didn’t know what he wanted, but he sat down beside her anyway. She took his hand again, intertwining their fingers and giving his palm a caring squeeze. He pretended not to notice.

They watched the TV for a little while, Karen made a few side comments on the movie here and there, to which Kyle nodded his head in response each time. Sometime after the second commercial break, Karen asked him a question.

“Hey, Kyle, what’s your favorite restaurant in town?”

He blinked, “Um. I don’t really know. Why?”

“Kenny and I have a tradition of ordering take-out for dinner every Friday,” she explained, a twinkle in her eyes, “I was just thinking that you’ll be our guest tonight, so it would be polite if you got to choose where we get the food.”

“I’m your guest tonight?” Kyle asked, his throat paining.

Karen hesitated, “I mean, yes? I thought you-... I assumed you were staying with us for a while. Was I wrong?”

“I, um,” Kyle coughed a little, “I don’t know.”

Karen went pink, like she said something she wasn’t supposed to say. She rose from the couch, “I, um- Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Kyle panicked, his throat tightening.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Karen was just making an excuse to leave the room. He had made her nervous. He had made her want to leave. God damn, it wasn’t only Stan he was hurting. He was hurting everyone around him.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but realized that she had already gone off to the bathroom without him noticing. God damn it. He would have to make it up to her. He could let Karen braid his hair again, or he could take her out to Harbucks, or he could pick her favorite restaurant for dinner, or—

-Dinner. It was Friday. He had to have his Friday night sabbath rituals.

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, “Mom’s candles.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that his phone was resting on a nearby table. Karen must have left it for him there. Kyle looked at the screen nervously, wondering if he should text Stan and ask him to drop off the candles for tonight. He dismissed the thought as soon as it came to mind; Stan didn’t need to be bothered, he needed time to recover.

But Kyle needed his candles.

He needed to go back and get them. That wasn’t even a question; he needed to have them. He had Kenny’s keys, and now that he was at the McCormick house, he had Kenny’s truck, too. He could do this. He _would_ do this. He would get his candles and come back to Kenny’s house as soon as possible to stay out of Stan’s way. It would be fast. He would be in and out, and then he would be done. Stan didn’t even have to know he was there.

Just like how Karen didn’t need to know he would be leaving. He glanced back at the bathroom door, before launching up from the couch and running out to the truck outside.

* * *

When Kyle arrived at his apartment, he was already unnerved. He hated driving in the dark enough as it was, but he also had to drive a truck he was unfamiliar with operating, _and_ he had to drive in the middle of a thunderstorm. By the time he got to his front door, he was already shaken. His hands were so jittery that he couldn’t get the keys to unlock the front door. He tried again and again to get the key inside the slot before he remembered that these keys weren’t his own; they were Kenny’s.

So there was no avoiding it after all. He had to let Stan know he was here.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

For a split second, Kyle wondered if Stan was asleep and if he should leave and come back later. But his queries were addressed only a few moments later, when he heard stumbles and stomps from the other side of the door before it slowly pulled open.

Stan stood with the most innocent perplexion Kyle had ever seen. He was dressed in the same gym clothes he wore when Kyle left. He still even had his gym shoes on. His eyes were red around the edges and there was an overwhelming presence of heartbreak throughout his body.

When he noticed that it was Kyle at the door, Stan smiled, “Hey, babe.”  
But his smile went away just as quickly as it came, “Wait, why are you here? I- I told you to leave. I’m not ready yet. I need more time to- I don’t know, I just need more _time,_ Ky, I’m not ready to-”

“-I know. It’s okay,” Kyle ducked his head, “I just came to grab something. If that’s okay with you.”

Stan looked him up and down slowly. Very slowly. Almost intensely. Kyle had never felt so vulnerable under those coffee-colored irises in his entire life.

But then Stan snapped out of it, shaking his head as if a fly were buzzing around his face. He stepped aside, holding the door open, “Sure, c’mon in. I mean, it’s your place, too. You live here just as much as I do.”

“I know,” Kyle said, carefully working his way inside, “It’s just that I know how you want to be alone right now. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“I don’t wanna be alone, Ky,” Stan replied with a strange lethargic quality trickling into his voice.

Kyle shuddered a little, “But you told me to leave you alone for a while.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted it,” Stan whined, wiping at his mouth, “Jesus Christ, I don’t want to have to distance myself from you. It’s not like I _asked_ for you to break my heart and make me drink again.”

“Drink?” Kyle repeated.

Oh. So that was why Stan asked him to leave. He wanted to entertain his self-destructive drinking habits, but he didn’t want to hurt Kyle like he did last time. By pushing Kyle away for the night, Stan was trying to _protect_ him.

Kyle felt himself tear up. Stan was so good to him. Stan loved him so much.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Kyle knew deep down that Ike was right. Stan was only his best friend.

Kyle could distinctly remember the day that Stan asked him out, and it wasn’t a fond memory. Stan had been shitfaced drunk and falling over himself, and Kyle had been there to help him as always. When Stan first told him that he loved him, which was after nearly falling down a flight of stairs, Kyle hadn’t believed it. He thought it was just the tequila talking. But when he just laughed it off, he saw how much his reaction hurt Stan. It hurt him badly. Stan started bawling, and he didn’t stop until Kyle gave in and told him that he loved him too, and that he would date him.

It wasn’t a pity date, not really. Because Kyle truly did love Stan. In all honesty, Kyle was looking forward to taking their relationship to a new level. He hadn’t seen a problem with it. He had been pretty open about being interested in men, for one thing, and it’s not like anyone else would have asked Kyle out. He was too skinny, too short, too sickly, too annoying, too angry, and he couldn’t forget to mention that the girls dubbed him the ugliest in the whole class. With Stan, at least, he really stood a chance at being loved.

It wasn’t until the kiss in the airport that Kyle realized he loved Stan, but that he wasn’t _in_ love with him. He wasn’t in love with his boyfriend. He was in love with his best friend. And that hurt.

He couldn’t imagine how much it hurt Stan.

“I’m so sorry,” Kyle whispered, his voice breaking.

Stan’s eyes widened, “Wait. Wait Ky, are you about to cry?”

“I- I don’t know,” Kyle sobbed, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, “I just- I wish I could be _better_ to you.”

Stan’s gaze narrowed, looking at him intensely again, “I wish you could, too.”

He stared at him for a moment longer, before backing off, retreating to the kitchen to grab something to drink. Kyle tried not to address a receipt lying on the kitchen table, a receipt that read just how much money Stan had spent on alcohol within the few hours Kyle was gone. It was a lot.

“Go on, then,” Stan called, opening a beer, “Get what you need to get.”

Kyle nodded, mostly to himself, and proceeded to the living room. Ever since he inherited them, he kept his mother’s candles in a chest on the bottom shelf of the book case. That way, they were adequately out of the way when he didn’t need them, but easy to access when he did.

It never occurred to him that he would have to worry about them being too easily accessible.

His heart dropped when he walked into the living room to see the chest wide open on its side, some of his mother’s candles in disarray across the floor, and some clenched between the jaws of the puppy Stan gave him. Maple was not merely teething. No, she was _destroying_ his mother’s candles. Pieces of wax were scattering the floor in every which way, bits of wick clinging to her canines as she ripped through. She chewed and growled in a terrifying frenzy, and it made Kyle gawk in disbelief.

Then he felt something rekindle inside of him, some kind of fire flaring in his gut.

“Maple!” he screeched, “What the hell is the matter with you?!”

He stooped down to try to take a candle from her, but she bared her pointed canines and he flinched back.

“Kyle?” Stan called confusedly from the kitchen, “You okay, baby?”

He tried once more to launch himself forward and tear the candle from her, but Maple resisted. She forced him into a cruel game of tug-of-war, making him fight for what little wax and wick remained. When he managed to yank it free, she growled and clamped her teeth down on his hand. Hard. She bit with much more ferocity than last time, and it made Kyle cry out in pain.

“You fucking _demon dog!”_ Kyle screamed, “I hate you! Go back to hell!”

“Ky? Why’re you so loud, babe?” Stan stumbled into the living room, noticeably more drunk than he had been only moments ago.

The tears in Kyle’s eyes were dangerously close to falling now, but he held them back with all the strength he could. He would not cry, not now, not when his fire was starting to blare, not when his anger was returning.

He made a fist around the mangled candle in his hand, “Look at what your fucking dog did!”

Stan shook his head lazily, “No, baby, she’s _your_ dog.”

“Not anymore! We’re getting rid of her!”

Stan’s lazy smile dropped, “Hey, now... You’re really sad, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Stan! Look at what she _did!_ This isn’t excusable!” Kyle screeched with even more rage.

He started to pace around the living room, his temples pounding, “What the fuck were mom’s candles doing out of the chest, anyway?! It has a fucking _latch_ on it! Maple’s got to be a creature from fucking _hell_ if she’s able to torment me the way she does, the way she-”

“-Oh, stop it,” Stan drawled, emitting a drunken hiccup, “Stop talking about her like she-”

-Maple started to bark in a high-pitched tone that made Kyle’s ears feel like they were bleeding.

“Stop that!” Kyle demanded.

“Wait a damn minute, don’t yell at her!” Stan set his beer down on the coffee table, “She’s just a baby! She doesn’t know any better!”

The neighbors were pounding on the other side of the wall, demanding silence, but Stan and Kyle couldn’t hear them at all over Maple’s barking and their own arguments.

Just as Kyle opened his mouth to fire a rebuttal, he felt a tug at his ankle. In a panic, he realized that Maple was biting at the cuff of his jeans, pulling and ripping and trying to knock him over.

“Quit that!” he exclaimed, more scared than he was actually angry. He’s seen the damage those pointed teeth could do, and now they were piercing scarily close to his skin.

He frantically shook his foot, trying his best to shake her off, but Maple was unyielding. She kept her jaws firmly around the fabric, the tips of her canines starting to graze the skin of Kyle’s ankle.

He tried pushing her away with his other foot, “Shit, Maple! Stop that! These aren’t even my pants! They’re Ke-”

_“-Hey!”_ Stan roared, storming in close, “Don’t kick her!”

“But I’m not kicking her! I’m only- Maple, _stop it!”_ Kyle tried shaking her again.

It happened so fast Kyle didn’t have time to process it.

Stan hurled the palm of his hand across Kyle’s cheekbone, slapping him with the strength of ten men, shouting, “Don’t you _fucking_ kick her!”

Without even permitting him time to react, Stan snared Kyle by the fabric of his sweater and drove him into the bookcase, violently shoving him against the shelves. Kyle felt his head snap back against the solid wood, and something came unhinged in the back of his skull.

The second that Stan let go of him, Kyle slumped to the ground, his numb limbs colliding with the hardwood and scattered pieces of wax. He had been shoved into the bookshelf with so much force that some books on the top row were shaking. They wobbled there in place, before toppling off the shelf and colliding with his head.

At first, Kyle was too dazed to feel anything. But after he managed to blink his eyes open, a searing throb in the back of his skull ripped through his entire body. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, but found that he was too numb to make any sound.

“Kyle!”

He snapped back to attention, seeing Stan crouched down in front of him. He had the saddest look on his face.

He was crying. Of course he was. Stan always cried.

“Ky, Ky, are you okay?” Stan sniffed, wiping away drunken tears with his arm, “I’m sorry! Shit, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? You okay, Ky? I didn’t mean to, I promise I didn’t mean to!”

In his numbed state, Kyle let his gaze sluggishly move around the floorboards, seeing the ruined remains of candle and the heavy books that had fallen. Scanning across the titles printed on the hardcover books, he noticed one in particular standing out among the rest. Curious, he flipped the book over to see the title.

A collection of Tennessee Williams plays.

He missed Kenny.

“Are you okay?” Stan cried again, alcohol reeking off his breath, “I-I didn’t mean to! I’m-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean t-... hey… hey, I’m so sorry… I love you so much, okay? …hey… you okay?”

Stan took a long breath. He wiped at his face, smearing tears and drunken sweat across his jaw. Maple was whining for attention, distressed by the atmosphere in the room. Stan hiccupped again, before scooping Maple up off the ground and coddling her in his arms.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. It looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but by now he was crying so much that he was incoherent. He sobbed, clutching Maple against him, and then shot up from the ground and ran off to the bathroom. He locked himself and Maple inside, leaving Kyle alone and unmoving on the hardwood floor.

He remained unmoving for far too long. Any attempts he made at trying to get up landed him back on the floor. He tried calling out something, anything, for help, but just his soft moans were enough to send an electric shock through his head and make him back off in pain.

God, it felt like something was clamping down on his very _brain._ It hurt. It hurt so _much._ Where Stan hit him, where his ribs collided with the shelves, where hardwood textbooks fell onto his head, all of it made him ache in ways he had never experienced pain before.

Scary words started to enter his muddled thoughts. Concussion. Aneurysm. Hemorrhage.

He tried to get up again, this time using the bookshelf as leverage, and managed to stand up fully. His knees were shaking and his head was spinning, but at least he was standing.

Off in the distance, he heard the distinct sound of a door opening and closing.

He flinched, backing up against the bookshelf in preparation of getting hurt again.

“What the fuck? Kyle?”

Oh God. Ike.

Ike Broflovski stood disheveled at the mouth of the living room. He was wearing the pair of blue-light glasses he used for university and carrying an armful of textbooks. He stood frozen in perplexion, before setting his books down and promptly rushing to his brother’s side.

Ike must have noticed that he wasn’t standing properly, because as soon as they were close enough, he latched onto Kyle’s forearms to give him leverage to stand. They were so close that Kyle could see the pores on his face, the individual strands of his coarse hair, and the sharp pupils of his dark eyes. His stare was so direct that Kyle felt as though Ike’s eyes were burning through him.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Ike barked, his throat bobbing, “Why are there books on the floor? And- wait, are those Mom’s candles? Kyle, what happened?”

“I-” Kyle’s throat hurt just as much as the rest of his body, making him wince, “-I fell down.”

Ike’s ever-blank stare was as impenetrable as always.

“You fell down.”

“I fell.”

“How did you fall?”

“I fell…”

“How did you fall?”

“…I just fell down.”

“How. Did. You. Fall.”

“M-Maple was eating the candles,” Kyle croaked out, “And sh-she started biting on my pants leg and tried to knock me over. I fell i-into the bookcase, a-and some books hit me and I hit the floor.”

Ike’s eye twitched, “Did anything hit your head?”

Kyle nodded his head yes, the action of it sending another electric shock into his brain. Concussion. Aneurysm. Hemorrhage.

Keeping one hand firmly clenched around Kyle’s forearm, Ike used his other hand to finger through Kyle’s curly hair, searching for bumps or cuts. He spoke as he investigated, keeping his monotonous voice low and somewhat soothing, “Are you dizzy at all? Can you see and hear alright?”

“Dizzy, yeah,” Kyle confessed, “I don’t- I don’t feel good…”

Ike was stunned. His fingers froze in Kyle’s hair, and his stare intensified tenfold.

Kyle was confused, “Ike? What’s wrong?”  
“You, um-” he cleared his throat, “You slipped up with your grammar. You said ‘good’ instead of ‘well,’” Ike paused, “I’ve never heard you do that before.”

Kyle sneezed, just barely bringing his elbow to his nose in time to catch it. The sudden jerk of his head and immediate flushing of his nasal cavity made it feel like his brain was set on fire. He actually cried out on a weak mewl, bringing his hands up to clamp down on the sides of his skull. He squeezed his head as if his hands were the only things keeping it from falling apart.

Ike kept him steady, and started to gently ruffle his red curls with his other hand, soothing him with tender loving care.

“I guess I was right, then,” Ike said, his flat tone in direct opposition to his soft comforts, “You must be really sick.”

Concussion.

Aneurysm.

Hemorrhage.

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” Ike said. He left Kyle were he was and started moving around the apartment, “Get your phone. I’ll get the keys. I might bring a bottle of water, too. Do you want to-” he stopped, “Wait, where’s Marsh? Is he home?”

Kyle pointed to the bathroom.

Ike went to knock on the bathroom door with his fist, “Marsh? I’m taking my brother to a doctor.”

Stan said something muffled from the other side of the door.

Ike knocked again, “Marsh? Are you alright in there?”

Kyle was too far away to hear what Stan said, but he was okay with that. He was sure he didn’t want to know what Stan had to say. Ike talked to Stan through the door in hushed tones, before grabbing the keys and coming back.  
“Let’s go, Kyle,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

“Stan?”

“He can’t come. He’s throwing up,” Ike fetched a water bottle as me moved towards the door, keys in hand, “Come on, Kyle. Don’t dawdle.”

Kyle shivered, “Stan’s throwing up?”

“Yeah. You can’t get mad at him for being nervous, Ky. I’m nervous, too. You’re pretty much giving me a heart attack here. I don’t blame him. Now come on,” he blanched, “Wait. Shit. Do you need help walking?”

Kyle hesitated. He didn’t know the answer. But he wasn’t willing to risk getting hurt again just to find out. So he nodded yes, humiliation consuming him as Ike came over to wrap an arm around his waist, escorting him out of the apartment.

As he walked, Kyle kept his head low and tried not to think about Stan hitting him. He tried not to think about Kenny kissing him. He tried not to think about the doctor’s bills he would have to pay or the candle scraps he would have to throw away. He tried not to think at all.  
And it was easy, because his head hurt too much for thought.


	15. Chapter 15

The bear cookie that Kyle gave Kenny was used as a good luck charm for his expenditure in New York. It was his first time travelling alone, and it should have at least intimidated him, but instead, Kenny sashayed through New York with a smile on his face and a skip in his step, the bear cookie in his pocket all the way. It was almost as if the cookie served as a little talisman of protection or joy.

Really, he could only thank Kyle that he did so well at his audition. He most likely would’ve been scared shitless if it weren’t for the confidence his new good luck charm gave him. He was bold enough to shake hands with everyone in the room, including the janitor, and got exceedingly close to the auditioners in the performance he gave them, right in their faces, as he was feeling audacious.

It was a great audition. Probably the best one yet. He did his monologues, he told some sex jokes, he juggled some pens, and he got on the good side of everyone in the room. He felt great about it, he really did.

Not too long after his audition, he was back in the airport with his bags packed. While he was there, he picked up chats with random strangers and started doing cartwheels down the hallways to kill time. He called Karen and they talked about how she was doing at Tricia’s house. She was giggling a lot throughout the call, giggling like she was nervous, and Kenny couldn’t help but wonder what silly teenage girl things she was hiding from him. He snorted at the thought of it, but was nonetheless endeared. His baby sister was growing up.

It wasn’t until he called Kyle that all things went to shit during his time away from home.

The call had started simple enough. Kyle sounded more tired than he normally did, but that was expected considering the late hour. Then they talked about dog-sitting Maple, and how Kyle was actually petting her. After that, Kyle told him that he was home alone, and that made Kenny feel like it would be okay for him to bring up the topic of their kiss.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it the entire two days he was in New York. The kiss had been  _ all _ he could think about.

But Kyle didn’t want to talk about it with Kenny. He wanted to talk about it with  _ Stan, _ and that was a punch to the gut. It hit him even harder when Kyle said he didn’t want to give Stan the impression that he and Kenny were together.

Kenny knew they weren’t together. Obviously. Not officially, anyway. Obviously he knew that.

But he was still sort of hoping… 

It didn’t matter. Kyle made it clear the position he was in. And Kenny would respect that.

So he played it off like a joke, knowing Kyle would take the bait, and things seemed to smooth over between the two of them. With the way their phone call was going, Kenny was under the impression that Kyle would hang up soon and probably go off to have dinner with Stan or something, so he was already starting to wind down.

But then Kyle hit the speaker button, and Kenny got concerned.

It had to be intentional. It had to be. Kyle wasn’t one to be clumsy and make careless mistakes, he was so direct and headstrong. So Kenny had every right to believe that Kyle wanted Kenny to stand by and listen.

He didn’t like what he heard. He hadn’t expected Kyle to be so nervous throughout the whole conversation, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated the (somewhat mature? somewhat just plain rude and inconsiderate?) decision Stan made to send Kyle out for the night. Not only that, but Stan yelled at Kyle for the absence of his liquor, which was  _ Kenny’s _ fault, not Kyle’s, and he absolutely loathed that the redhead had to take the blame for that.

By the time Stan started yelling, Kenny was ready to spit fire. If he could have, he would have thrown his fist right through the phone and sucker-punched Stan across the face. But the next thing he knew, he could hear Kyle frantically scrambling to hang up and then the call was over.

Kenny was getting anxious. Immediately after Kyle hung up, he had to board his flight back home. He had to stifle his anxiety so the other passengers wouldn’t get nervous about him being so tense, and he could only thank his years of actor training he was able to successfully hide it during the whole flight home.

For the first time in his entire life, Kenny could say that he didn’t want to perform. He went straight from the airport to the theatre and he absolutely hated it. He wanted to go to the apartment and punch Stan and fix whatever was wrong with Kyle, but he couldn’t.

When Wendy approached him after the play, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

“What the hell was wrong with you tonight?” she had asked while folding his laundry, “You were so distant.”

“Nothing,” he had muffled back, not bothering to comb his hair or take off his makeup.

“Don’t say that,” she’d snapped back, “When you kissed your scene partner, you looked like you wanted to  _ cry, _ Kenny. Are you alright? Did the audition in New York go  _ that _ poorly?”

Something about that line had made him choke a little, “I just-... I don’t know. I’m antsy, I guess. I don’t know… Hey Wends? Can I ask you something?”

Her eyes softened with a maternal grace that made Kenny feel whole, “Yes, of course. Anything.”

“It’s about when you and Stan were dating…”

“Good God, Kenny, that was when we were, like, twelve or thirteen years old.”

“I know, I know, but just-... Did he ever yell at you?”

“Yell at me?”

“Yeah. Y’know, raise his voice, stomp around, intimidate ya, make ya feel bad, y’know, the whole spiel.”

“No, never. He treated me like an angel every day,” there was something brewing in her alluring, opaque eyes, “Has Stan been yelling at you or something?”

His phone had buzzed then.

**Sissy:** _ Are you free to call? I need to tell you something ASAP. _

Kenny shoved the rest of his costume into Wendy’s arms, and for once, she didn’t seem to mind his brashness. She let him leave the theatre, and he took that permission and  _ ran _ with it. Literally. He ran down the streets, pulling the hood of his parka down to protect his face against the blustering winds.

He needed to get the gym as soon as possible and get someone to cover his shift, then he would be able to take Karen’s call and figure out whatever was going on.

On his run to the gym, his clothes got soaked through. It was raining so much it felt like he was swimming upstream. He had never seen so much water before in his life. It was insane. Just those three minutes of running froze his bones and turned his hands red with chill. His teeth were even chattering. He couldn’t imagine staying out there in the storm any longer than that.

Upon arriving at the gym, Kenny and his boss got into a verbal argument, where Kenny was even threatened with losing his job if he didn’t work today’s shift. He got the impulsive urge to throw hands at the boss man, and just  _ barely _ managed to repress every instinctual urge in his body to hold himself back. If he lost his job, that meant no food on the table for his little sister. He wasn’t allowed to be impulsive today.

Speaking of his little sister, as soon as his boss left the building, he took her call. The second that Karen picked up, he immediately knew that she needed him more than anything.

“Sissy, what’s the matter?” he got straight to the point, drumming his fingers anxiously along the snack bar countertop.

_ “Hey, Ken,” _ she sounded tired,  _ “Kyle just got here.” _

Kenny scrunched his nose at that, “Kyle’s at Tricia’s house?”

_ “Oh,”  _ he could almost  _ hear _ her embarrassment,  _ “Um, no, um… I’m not-... I never went to Tricia’s house, Ken. I’ve been staying at our house.” _

He heard something snap.

“Karen, you lied to me?”

Despite how awful both of them felt about it, somehow, they both miraculously knew that that wasn’t important right now, and that there was a greater wrongdoing that needed to be addressed. It was some kind of McCormick instinct, he supposed.

_ “Kyle showed up at the doorstep a few minutes ago,” _ Karen explained delicately,  _ “He was soaking wet. Apparently he walked from his apartment.” _

Kenny’s jaw dropped, “That’s like ten miles away!”   
Holy shit. Not only did Stan kick Kyle out of the house, but he also had the  _ audacity _ to not let him take the car!

_ “Twelve miles, actually. I can’t even imagine how- I mean- in this kind of weather, it’s just-” _ her voice trembled,  _ “He wasn’t speaking very well. He didn’t speak much at all, actually. I helped him inside and I gave him some of your clothes. I tried to offer him something to eat, but he said something about Stan getting mad at him, so I just let him be.” _

“Oh Sissy,” Kenny’s heart ached, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. That’s so scary. You did so good, I promise you.”

She sniffed on the other side of the phone,  _ “Thanks, but I don’t really feel like I helped.” _

“No, Kar, you did. You absolutely did,” he licked his lips nervously, “Can you pass the phone to Kylie? I’m worried about him. I wanna talk.”

_ “He’s in the bath right now. I thought it would help him warm up.” _

Why was she so goddamn good at being responsible? Her behavior almost made Kenny look bad in comparison.

“Okay, good job, Sissy. Thanks,” he started to tug at his hair, “You’re doing a great job. Tell you what, just relax, ‘kay Sis? Just kick your feet up and relax. You can take the day off of school today. I’ll get home the second that my shift ends and I’ll take care o’ everything. Sound good?”

_ “Mhm. Thanks, Kenny.” _

“No, thank  _ you. _ Take it easy now, alright?”

_ “M’kay. See you in a few hours.” _

“See you in a few hours.”

Those six hours were the longest six hours of his entire life.

He took public transportation home. The second that the bus dropped him off, he kicked the front door of his house wide open and bolted inside. He actually ran in with such abruptness that he woke Karen, who had been peacefully sleeping on the couch.

“Kenny!” she exclaimed, jumping up from shock.

“Sorry,” he simpered, before pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her cheek, “Missed ya.”

“I missed you, too,” Karen gave a tight smile. She looked tired. Way too tired to be sixteen years old. Her hair was a mess and her makeup was smudging; so essentially, she looked exactly like her brother. Funny how that happens.

He kissed her head, internally praying she would find herself an easy job with few working hours, great pay, and easy retirement. Then he pulled away.

“Where’s Ky?” he asked, scanning around the living room.

Karen hesitated, “Oh. Um, I think he went back up to his room? By ‘his room’ I mean ‘your room,’ of course. I told him he could sleep in there.”

Kenny hesitated, too, tilting his head in confusion, “Sorry, but did you just tell me where he was like it’s a question? Is he in my room or isn’t he?”

She raised her hand to twist locks of her hair, “I mean, yeah, I think. I haven’t seen him in a while, so I guess I just assumed that-”

“-Whaddya mean you haven’t seen him?”

Karen flushed pink, “Ken, I don’t know! Why’re you freaking out? It’s just- It’s just that when he was done with his bath and he was just sitting around, he seemed really upset and like he didn’t want to talk. So I thought he didn’t want to spend any time with me…”

“So what?”

“I don’t know, I just went to the bathroom to, like, give him space, and when I came back, he wasn’t in the living room anymore, so I just assumed that-”

“-Oh fuck.”

“What? What is it?”

“Karen. I just now realized.”

“Kenny? What is it?”

“Look out the window.”

She did as instructed, twisting her hair even quicker, “Okay? What am I looking for?”

“Look at the driveway. What’s missing?”

Karen blanched, “Your truck.”

Kenny felt the blood drain from his face, “Kyle left? He just left and you didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t! I really thought he just went back up to your bedroom or something!”

Kenny groaned, grabbing tufts of his hair and pulling aggressively, “Oh Karen… Fuck it’s fucking  _ dark _ outside! He told me he can’t drive well in the dark! He told me that, like, three times! And it’s storming like hell too, oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, what if something happens to him?”

“Oh Kenny, I didn’t do anything on purpose! I promise that I didn’t! I really thought he was right here,” Karen whimpered.

Kenny tried to dismiss her whimpers, pacing around the living room to vent out his explosive energy.

“Do you think we should call him, Kenny?” Karen asked gingerly, “I haven’t seen his phone, he must have taken it with him.”

Kenny whined, “We can’t call him if he’s driving! He said he can’t drive well when it’s dark outside! And with this fucking  _ hurricane _ out there it’s pitch black! Holy fuck, imagine if I called him while he was driving ‘n he got distracted ‘n lost control of the wheel ‘n the car crashed into-”

“-Kenny, no!” Karen cried, “I don’t want to imagine that! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” his breath hitched, “B-But you’re right that we should try to contact him. I mean, I wanna just run out there and start looking for him, but with this storm, I just-...” he trailed off.

Karen looked at him softly, “Do you think we should call Stan?”

“Fuck Stan,” Kenny said automatically. He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his parka, “I’m calling Ike.”

Karen was still teary-eyed and pink with shame, but she nodded. In her embarrassment, she sat down on the couch, curling into herself. She took the colored clips out of her scalp so she could run her fingers through her hair in that self-soothing gesture she always practiced in moments of distress.

Kenny was distressed, too, but he could worry about that later. Right now, he needed to know where Kyle was.

Ike was quick to pick up the phone call,  _ “McCormick? I have to say, I don’t think you’ve ever called me before. This is interesting. Are you back from New York?” _

“Hey, is Kyle with you?” Kenny dove right in, “I don’t know where he is and it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

_ “What? Yeah, he’s here,”  _ Ike explained,  _ “We’re at the apartment.” _

Kenny let out a sigh of relief, feeling the butterflies in his stomach escape and fly away. He gave Karen a thumbs up to calm her down, before returning to the phone call.

“Awesome, lil’ man, thanks. For real. Hey, can you grab him real quick? I wanna talk to him.”

_ “I would, but he’s asleep right now.” _

“At seven in the morning?” Kenny asked, the anxious butterflies already starting to return, “Isn’t he supposed to, like, be getting ready for school? Or even, isn’t he supposed to already be driving to school already?”

_ “Okay, first of all, it’s  _ college, _ not  _ school.  _ Don’t insult my brother’s intelligence,” _ Ike snapped monotonously, which caught Kenny by surprise,  _ “And secondly, he’s not going to his classes today, and neither am I. He’s following the doctor’s orders.” _

The butterflies were flying around rapidly now, making Kenny feel queasy, “Whaddya mean ‘doc-’”

_ “-When I arrived back at his apartment this morning, he wasn’t looking so good. He was confused and feeling weak, and he told me he fell into the bookshelf. So we went to the doctor and got him all bandaged up and tested.” _

“Tested? What for?”

_ “Everything, really. Blood tests, urine tests, you know. The works. Most of the tests were just precautionary, though. We won’t get the results for another few days. The doctor sent him home on a good note and recommended a little sleep, so that’s where we are right now.” _

Kenny’s relief was immediate. Once again, the butterflies left him, but this time, they helped fly him off the ground, his joy transcending. He was happy because Kyle finally went to a  _ doctor. _ He had been dismissing every notion of a doctor’s visit for a long time now, but today he finally went.

That had to mean his financial situation was getting better. Kyle was a stubborn tightwad, and he would never allow himself medical attention if he couldn’t afford it. He would have to be forced against his will before he let that happen. So if Kyle went to his doctor’s office this morning, that had to mean he was confident financially. That had to mean he was secure and safe.

Kyle was safe.

Kenny was smiling like an idiot, “That’s awesome, dude. Glad to hear you finally convinced that stingy daywalker to take care o’ himself.”

_ “Don’t you dare make fun of him. I’m the only one allowed to do that.” _

Kenny should have been intimidated, but he was so happy for Kyle that no negative emotion in existence could reach him.   
“Whatever,” he scoffed, “Say, can I come by and see him sometime later today? Or is he supposed to rest all day?”

_ “It might be best if you left him alone for the day. His doctor recommended a full twenty four hours of relaxing at minimum. And I  _ don’t _ hate to break it to you, but you’re quite the opposite of relaxing.” _

Kenny laughed, “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m pretty bouncy. Guess I’ll have to let the lil’ guy be. Just take care o’ him for me and I’ll see ‘im as soon as I can.”

_ “I will, but go easy on him when you see him, alright? I think he’s been through a lot.” _

“Okay,” Kenny said, his happiness faltering, “Oh, and Ike?”

_ “Yes?” _

“What’s Stan up to? Is he at home with y’all?”

_ “No. I think he’s at some yoga retreat or something lame like that. The pussy. He’ll be gone for the whole day, I think.” _

“‘kay, thanks. Talk to you later, then,” Kenny said. Was it wrong for Stan’s absence to make him even happier?

_ “Bye, McCormick. I’ll let you know if there are any updates with Kyle.” _

“Please do. Adios, amigo,” he cheered before hanging up the phone call.

Karen raised her head from the sofa cushions with hope sparkling in her hazel eyes, “So Kyle’s okay?”

“Yeah, he’s back at his apartment right now getting beauty sleep,” Kenny let out yet another breath of relief. The stress was falling off of his skin, melting away from him like water off a duck’s back. He was so thankful. He was grateful that Kyle was safe, and equally grateful that the crisis was averted before he went into a full-fledged panic attack. He probably saved himself from getting more grey hairs.

“Oh I’m so happy everything’s okay,” Karen smiled, though from the shakiness in her voice, she sounded far from happy.

Now that Kenny knew Kyle was safe, and now that it was just his sister and himself at home, he allowed himself to concede Karen’s transgression in the whole ordeal, and it didn’t sit well in his stomach. He frowned, and took a seat to face her directly.

It was obvious Karen could see where this was going.

“Am I in trouble, Kenny?”

The blonde gave a tense sigh, grinding his teeth, “I dunno, Sissy. I mean, believe me, the last thing I want is for you to be punished or whatever. But like, you lied to me. You told me you were spending my time away with Tricia’s family.”

“This was my first time lying to you, it’s not like this is a bad habit of mine,” Karen reminded him.

“I know,” he grunted, “But you still lied to me. I dunno why. Like, if you wanted to be home alone for two days, I’m sure we coulda worked something out. You coulda told me. Maybe you coulda even convinced me. But you didn’t… why’d you feel like you had to lie to me?”

“It didn’t feel like I was lying,” Karen confessed, “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted you to come home and see me being responsible and be impressed, that’s all… I never meant to lie, Ken, I just wanted to impress you.”

Kenny ran his hands through his hair, “Sis, you  _ always _ impress me. There’s not a single day that goes by that I don’t think about how kind, sweet, pretty, and mature you are. ‘specially for your age, like holy shit. When I was your age, I was skipping class with Cartman, getting high with the goth kids, and drinking my weekends away with Stan.”

“You didn’t do anything with Kyle?” Karen asked, a more sincere smile replacing the fake one.

“Well, of course I did. But that’s not the point. The point is-”

“-What did you do with Kyle?”

“Karen…”

“I just want to know, I’m only curious,” she pleaded lightly, “Seriously, you can go right back to scolding me afterwards. I just want to know what you and Kyle did together when you were my age.”

“I-” he hesitated, “You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“What? No I won’t!” she giggled, “You can tell me.”

“Okay, but  _ please _ don’t laugh.”

“I won’t! I won’t! Just tell me!”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I pinkie promise.”

“Okay… but please, please,  _ please _ don’t laugh.”

“Kenny! I pinkie promised you!”

“We-” he flushed at the memory, “He and I went to the library together… we read Shakespeare.”

Karen was holding back laughter, “You read Shakespeare?”

“Shakespeare mostly. And Marlowe and Molière. Wilde, Sophocles, Behn, Euripides, eventually Anton Chekov, Tennessee Williams, Henrik Ibsen, you name it. Holy shit, Euripides kicked my ass. But we read the works anyway. It was hard as hell at first, but somewhere along the line I really started liking it. I think we eventually read the entire play section of the library. See, Kyle really loved the words. He could decipher any line, any analogy. He was so brilliant. He understood everything,” Kenny didn’t even realize he was smiling, “There were times that we’d be sitting down on the floor reading the plays on our own, and he’d stop and read a few passages out loud, I’d just sit and listen. And then he’d look up from the text with a hand over his heart and say something like, ‘isn’t that beautiful?’ And I’d just be awed.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Kenny panicked, “What is it?”

Karen was a mess. She was pink in the face and smiling grandly while her eyes were glossy with unfallen tears, “Kenny, you’re so in love with him!”

“I know,” Kenny felt like a mess too. He probably looked just like his sister: pink and smiling and nearly crying.

“You know?!”

“I know.”

“Why haven’t you asked him out?!” she asked excitedly. Then something dawned on her, “Oh. Oh, of course. Stan.”

“I don’t care about Stan,” Kenny stated, almost laughing at the thought of it.

“You don’t care about Stan?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like  _ that,”  _ Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, “I care about the hippie. He’s still my best friend. He’s done some messed up shit and he yelled at Kyle a few hours ago so I wanna punch him at the moment, but yeah, I care about him. I just mean he’s not my problem. Stan has nothing to do with the reason why I can’t ask Kyle out. Hell, if Kyle wanted it, I’d probably be willing to be his mistress or side hoe or whatever,” he wiggled his eyebrows for comedic effect, and was happy to see that he made Karen giggle.   
When he knew Karen was at ease, he explained in all earnestness, “But the truth is, Sissy, I can’t ask Kyle to do anything he doesn’t wanna. He’s got great morals, and he really values that about himself. I don’t think he’s leaving Stan anytime soon.”

“Oh,” Karen’s lower lip stuck out in a pout, “That’s so sad.”

Kenny shrugged. He really didn’t know he could say. The truth is that he was in love with Kyle, Kyle  _ maybe _ liked him back but he probably didn’t, but even if he did, it wouldn’t matter because Kyle was joined at the hip with Stan. Neither of them were going to get what they wanted in this scenario, and there seemed to be no avoiding that.

He and Karen sat in silence for a moment or two, taking in each other’s company while rain pelted down on the roof above them.

Karen was the first to break the silence:

“Am I grounded?”

Kenny scrunched his nose, “Nah. I think you learned your lesson. Just don’t do it again.”

“You’re awesome, Kenny.”

“I know.”

“Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

“How was New York? Did you win any roles?”

“That’s not how it works,” Kenny explained lazily, leaning his head far back to gaze up at the ceiling, “I did a season audition for a few joint-companies, I think. I dunno. I wasn’t really paying attention. All I know is that I strutted my stuff, some of them liked my stuff, and I’ll be hearing back from them within the next few weeks. I dunno if I got anything yet, but I’ll know soon.”

“I’m sure you got something,” Karen encouraged as she started assembling her clips back into her hair, “Did the audition go well?”

“It was fantastic, actually. I had a good luck charm. Wanna see it?”

“A good luck charm? Yes! What is it? Like a gemstone or something?”

“Even better,” Kenny said excitedly. He was getting giddy, grinning like an idiot. He opened the pocket of his parka quickly, his hands fumbling with anticipation. He dove his fingers into the pocket to grab the bear cookie, only to have them meet nothing but dust. Confused, he ran his fingers through his pocket again and again, feeling nothing but crumbles and particles.

When it dawned on him that his cookie broke, he swore he felt like crying. Or screaming. Or both.

Karen was still looking at him sadly, somehow knowing the pain he was in just by sitting there.

“Oh, Kenny, it’s okay,” she cooed, “It’ll be okay.”

Kenny shook his head, the weight of his loss bearing down on him heavily, because that’s what it was: a loss. He had something special ripped from him. It was so much more than just a cookie, it meant something to him on another level. It was his good luck charm, yes, but also a symbol of-... something. He didn’t know what, but it definitely was a symbol of some kind. It represented something personal to him, something innate. And now it was destroyed because of his carelessness and lack of attention. If he had just been a little more careful when he folded his parka earlier, or when he was running through the rain, everything would have been fine. But it wasn’t. 

“I hope Kylie’s okay,” he whispered, the remnants of his gift sitting in bits and pieces at the bottom of his pocket.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, folks! I just wanted to take the time to say a million thank-yous to everyone who's left kind words on the story thus far. Honestly, I was not expecting so much reverence and support. Every single comment literally transcends me to another level of appreciation :) Thank you all so so much. I really wish there were a way I could express how much I appreciate all the kindness, but there's no real way I can do y'all any justice ;-;
> 
> Also, the incredibly skilled and wonderfully endearing Ailurodelrey created /yet another/ beautiful piece of fanart for this story! Please be sure to support this artist!  
> https://ailurodelrey.tumblr.com/post/630716273729355779/acting-on-impulse-chapter-1-bellweather
> 
> Oh, and of course, I'm not allowed to just leave a happy lil note. I have to give warnings, too lol.  
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Physical violence; reference to previously written domestic violence incident; and mistreatment of a medically concussed person  
> (I know that last one is a weird warning to give, but I think it has the potential to be really triggering, so I wanted to leave the warning just in case ;-; I gotta protect y'all)
> 
> I hope this chapter is everything y'all deserve <3

Kenny was wrong.

Jet-lag and time differences  _ did,  _ in fact, affect him. The first few days after returning home, he did nothing but sleep. Besides the few times he had to do a play or a shift at the gym, Kenny rested easy knowing that Karen wasn’t grounded and Kyle had gone to the doctor.

He hadn’t seen Kyle at all. He thought of him constantly, but hadn’t seen him once. He supposed it was for the better. Kyle needed his rest and he deserved to spend quality time with his brother while he was in town. The last thing Kyle needed was Kenny driving him up the walls. It infinitely  _ sucked _ to be away from him, but Kenny had to bear it for Kyle’s sake.

He had yet to be cast in any acting roles. A day or so ago, he received an email from one of the assistant directors, telling him to stand by. That’s all it said. It wasn’t a very promising indication of a job offering. It bummed him out to say the least, but being told to stand by wasn’t an outright rejection, so there was still a sliver of hope, wasn’t there?

Kenny blew air out of his lips, drumming his hands across the wood of the gym’s snack bar. He was bored out of his mind. It was five in the morning and there was nothing to do. The only people currently in the gym were a few moms talking to each other as they walked the treadmills. They were managing themselves just fine, so Kenny had nothing to do for them as an employee. He had nothing to do at all.

He groaned, smushing his face against the cool wood of the snack bar. He wondered why his boss was always so insistent that he needed to be at work when there was almost always nothing to do.

He heard the gym doors swing open, and lifted his head in hope of breaking free from excruciating boredom. He was miraculously amazed to recognize a pair of muscular dark-haired lads and a flash of red curls between them.

Excited beyond belief, Kenny jumped out of his slouch. He wildly waved his hands and called, “Yo! Dudes! I haven’t seen y’all in  _ ages!” _

Stan shrugged off his gym bag into a cubby, “It’s only been a few days.”

From the way he was dressed, it was clear that Stan didn’t just come here to socialize. He was dressed in a grey tank top that brought out his accented biceps and navy blue jockey shorts that didn’t match his gym shoes.

For a moment, Kenny wondered if Stan was here to beat him up.

Then he laughed internally at his wild imagination. Stan’s just here to hit the gym like the dopamine-starved athlete that he is. And from the looks of it, Ike was here to work out, too, based on the similar way he was dressed.

Kenny moved to greet them with a pep in his step, almost running with anticipation.

Stan and Kyle both flinched at his rapid approach, while Ike was standing off towards the back.

Stan suddenly became a tad defensive and gave a tight smile, “Hey, Ken.”

Kenny gave a forced smile back. Luckily for him, his actor skills hid his insincerity when he replied, “Hiya, dude. How ya been?”

“I’ve been better,” Stan frowned for a second, before looking the other way, “Uh, sorry to show up during your shift, dude. It’s just that Ike and I wanted to do some lifting together, but with his university schedule in Denver, we really couldn’t manage another window of time.”

“Don’t apologize, man, I’m glad to have y’all here,” Kenny lied. He shot Ike an inquisitive look, “Do you even lift, bro?”

“Vine is still dead, Ken,” Stan groaned.

“I wasn’t quoting Vine!”

“Sure, sure.”

“It’s true! I was just asking if the dude lifts!”

Ike was not amused, “I do.”

“That’s all I wanted to know! Geez!” Kenny exclaimed.

It was then that he noticed how standoffish Kyle was today. Kyle didn’t look like he was paying attention to much of anything. His body language said that he was nervous, borderline  _ scared _ . And unlike Stan and Ike, he wasn’t dressed to work out (Thank fuck, too. Kenny couldn’t handle another fainting incident).

Now that Kenny looked at him, he could see that Kyle was clutching something in his fist, squeezing it tightly.

Stan must have noticed him ogling at Kyle, because he cleared his throat with a little too much force, “Kenny.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Ky’s not going to lift with us. You can calm down,” he said tersely, as if he thought Kenny was going to swoop in and kiss Kyle right there in front of him.

“Cool, cool, that’s a relief,” Kenny blew air out of his lips, “Waitaminute, why is he even here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Kylie and I’m ecstatic to see him, really. But ain’t he supposed to be resting?”

“He’s  _ been _ resting,” Stan bit back, “He said that he was feeling better today, and that he was fine with me and Ike doing a work-out, but we didn’t want to leave him home alone.”

Kyle crossed his arms, “Sure, guys, sure. Just talk about me like I’m not even here. See if I care.”

A brief moment of tense silence ensued.

Ike clapped Stan on the shoulder, “Are you going to spot me or what?”

Stan was dazed for a moment, before he managed to snap out of it, “As if, Canadian! You’re spotting  _ me _ first.”

Ike responded with two middle fingers, walking backwards to the bench-press with his birds in the air on full display.

“Hey, now. Enough of that,” Stan smiled.

“Are you going to join me anytime soon, Marsh? I’m literally dying of old age.”

“Hold your horses. I’ll be there in just a sec. I just have to make sure that Ky-”

“-I’m fine,” Kyle cut in, “Ken will keep me company.”

Kenny felt his pulse quicken.

Stan was at a loss, “Um. I mean, are you sure? You can always hang out with me and Ike if you want to, babe. We’ll be happy to spend time with you.”

“But you’ll be working out, I’ll only get in the way,” Kyle replied with a tenuous eagerness.

“You won’t get in the way! I promise! You could, um… You could count reps for us?” Stan winced as he said it. It was clear that he was a little too eager as well.

Stan and Kyle stared at each other, and it made Kenny feel inferior. They were doing a  _ couple’s _ thing, speaking to each other through their eyes, communicating in a language no one could understand but them.

Kenny didn’t like being the outlier of the equation. So he intervened.

“I ain’t gonna kiss him, so you don’t need to act like I’m gonna.”

Stan and Kyle stiffened at that line, and Ike looked on in that emotionless way he always does.

Kenny cringed. Too soon. 

Stan ducked his head in embarrassment, “Sorry. I shouldn’t- um… Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kyle was breathless, “If I were in your shoes, I’d probably-... yeah.”

“Yeah,” Stan swallowed again.

After a few more awkward periods of tension, Stan finally moved on to the bench-press. Despite his earlier claim, Ike took upon himself the role of the spot, and allowed Stan to press first. It didn’t need to be said out loud that Ike was only spotting to assure some distance between Kenny and Stan for a while.

Kenny appreciated the leeway Ike gave him, and he certainly wasn’t going to let it go to waste. He turned to Kyle, “Lemme take you to the snack bar so we can catch up! I just taught myself how to make sugar-free protein shakes.”

There was an unspoken “for you” at the end of the sentence.

“Sure,” Kyle smiled a little bit, “That’d be good.”

Kenny walked him to the snack bar, noticing Kyle’s slower-than-normal pace but not addressing it. They were close to each other now, and they were far away from Stan, Ike, and the group of moms now exiting the gym. If he used his imagination, Kenny could easily pretend it was just the two of them. He could pretend the snack bar was a real bar, and that he was a sexy bartender making a special cocktail for a mysterious red-haired loner on the house.

Actors always had such vivid imaginations. Kenny was grateful for it.

He started to assemble the ingredients he would need, placing them on the counter, “Hey Ky, what flavor d’ya want?”

Maybe Kyle had a great imagination too, because he was playing the role of the mysterious loner very well; he didn’t address Kenny’s question whatsoever, he simply stared off into oblivion with a tenuous gaze.   
Or maybe he wasn’t just pretending.   
Kyle looked dead on his feet. He had bags under his eyes and a sickly shine to his skin. His expression was so alienated that it was dismal. Kenny’s heart almost broke just  _ looking  _ at him.

He leaned forward across the counter, bringing his face closer to Kyle’s to whisper, “Hey, Ky? Didja hear what I asked?”

Kyle blinked slowly.

Then he returned to the real word, “Sorry, Ken. Guess I wasn’t paying attention. Would you mind repeating yourself?”

Kenny didn’t like the hoarse quality in Kyle’s voice. It made him nervous.

“Oh no,” he muttered, “Kylie, are you sick  _ again?” _

Kyle kept squeezing that unknown thing in his hand, now opting to look away from Kenny, “How was New York? Do you know if you were cast in any plays?”

“Hey, why ain’t you lookin’ at me?”

“Tell me about New York. Please.”

“Okay, I will, but can you at least look at me? I’ve missed lookin’ at you.”

Kyle turned his head even farther away, exposing the entirety of his neck and the side of his face. He had his face turned so Kenny could perfectly see a darkened bruise on his cheek.

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh  _ shit. _

Kenny broke into a cold sweat, his chest rising up and down, “Ky? What- Oh fuck, hold on, can’t breathe. What the hell? Ky? What- What happened, Ky?”

“Bookshelf,” Kyle muttered, though he didn’t sound so sure of himself.

“Oh,” Kenny said, not entirely convinced, “Oh, that’s right… Ike told me you fell into the bookcase. That um- That looks like it hurts. You okay? What can I do for ya to make it better?”

Kyle shifted on the barstool, “You can finish making the shake.”

“I’m serious, Kylie.”

“So am I,” he stated, “Please. I’m- um, I’m really hungry. Can you just finish making it please?”

“Uh…” Kenny couldn’t shake the feeling that Kyle was onto something, that maybe Kyle knew something that Kenny didn’t, “Uh, sure. What- What flavor?”

“Anything but banana.”

They didn’t even carry a banana flavor. Kenny ended up making a birthday cake flavored sugar-free shake, and his hands were shaking the whole time. When it was finished, he had to be careful to not let his quivering hands drop the cup.

Kyle took it graciously, “Thanks, how much do I owe you?”

“Nah, it’s on the house. You tipped last time, ‘member? You don’t need to pay.”

“No, Kenny, you don’t understand,” Kyle put his fist up on the counter, “Let me pay this time.”

Kyle was still clutching that  _ thing _ in his fist. It was impossible to tell what it was. Could it be paper? Money? Kyle had it clutched in his grip, but by the way he was behaving, it was clear that he  _ wanted _ Kenny to see it.

Oh shit. Kyle was doing this deliberately. He was trying to communicate with Kenny through gestures and secret codes. Kyle was trying to make a secret language with him.

(Kenny didn’t feel so inferior after all.)

He cast a glance back to the gym, where he could see Stan and Ike finishing up some warm-up presses and moving on to the machine. They were contently distracted. As Kenny was sure that they weren’t paying attention, he opened up the cash register.

“Sure, you can pay. It’s three dollars,” he said, hiding his rising anxiety.

Kyle looked over his shoulder, and then gave Kenny the folded-up dollar bills in his fist. The bills were folded tightly, intently, and purposefully. Whatever these were, they were critically important. Kenny held them like he was holding the world’s most delicate glass

He made sure the coast was clear before he unfolded them, watching as a blue note slipped out from between the folds of the bills.

He was holding his breath. He felt like even the slightest movement or smallest sound could break the fragile tension of the moment. Gathering all the courage he could, Kenny opened up the blue note.

The handwriting was definitely Kyle’s… but it didn’t look like Kyle’s. The letters were askew and nearly unintelligible, like Kyle had tried writing with his non-dominant hand, as they spelled out three terrifying words:

“Stan’s not ok.”

Kenny broke out in goosebumps. The message itself was ominous enough on its own, but the fact that Kyle wrote in such hasty handwriting and didn’t even spell out the word ‘okay,’ gave Kenny even more reasons to be concerned.

“Uh,” he said, scrambling to hide the note in his pocket. He looked back to check on Stan, who currently had his entire focus fixated on the reps he was doing, his muscles raising and lowering the bar with perfected ease.   
Kenny’s eyes narrowed. He opened up the cash register, “The printer on the register is broken. Imma write you a receipt by hand, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Kyle said, hugging himself.

Using one of the pens that wore the gym’s logo and a sheet of paper he found in his pocket, Kenny wrote in big, bold letters:

“What did he do? Something bad? I know he kicked you out the other night and sent you to my place. The asshole didn’t even let you take the car. I tried to get home to you ASAP. I promise, I really, really tried. But by the time I got home, you were already gone. Is everything okay? Ike said you went to the doctor, and I’m happy for you about that. Does your doctor’s visit have anything to do with Stan?”

He gave Kyle the ‘receipt,’ doing his best to play it off naturally.

Kyle squinted at the receipt, frowning at it confusedly. His green eyes flickered across the words, seeing, but not processing.

It made something churn in Kenny’s gut. Kyle was having trouble reading. Kyle. The smartest bibliophile Kenny knew was having trouble  _ reading.  _ It was uncanny.

Kenny quickly came up with a Plan B, “Hey, Ky? I just checked, and I gave you the last cup I have in stock. We’re fresh outta cups. Why don’t you come to the storage closet with me to restock?”

Kyle was smart enough to understand what Kenny was insinuating. He nodded, crushing the ‘receipt’ in his hand and burying it into his pocket. He followed Kenny to the storage closet, both of them deliberately ignoring Stan and Ike on the other side of the gym.

Kenny waited until he was sure that neither Stan nor Ike was looking their way before he closed the closet door behind them, releasing an anxious breath. They were alone. They were safe.

“I missed you,” was the first thing Kenny said, even though he knew it probably wasn’t the right time.

Kyle simpered, “I missed you too, Ken. Things got real hard when you were gone.”

“What’s up, Ky? What’s going on?”

“I got a concussion,” Kyle said, knocking a fist against his temple to demonstrate.

Oh. That certainly explained a few things.

“‘m sorry to hear that,” Kenny said, and he deeply wished there was something better he could say to console him, “Didja get it when you fell into the bookcase? And is that how you got that nasty bruise, too?”

Kyle nodded slowly, as if with uncertainty, “Yeah. Didn’t help that the books on the top shelf fell on me. I thought I was going to die.”

If it had happened to anyone other than Kyle, Kenny would have laughed. But because it was Kyle, he didn’t.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. That must’ve hurt. A lot. The bookcase is wooden, right? And I know your books are really heavy. Oh, that must’ve been awful. Poor thing. Hey, is that why you went to the doctor?”

Kyle was quiet. He looked like he was thinking really hard.

“Ky?”

“Tennessee Williams.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“A Tennessee Williams book fell on me. And I missed you,” Kyle stared off, lost in thought, “What’s your favorite Tennessee Williams play?”

Kenny couldn’t tell if Kyle was speaking off-topic deliberately, or just because it was a product of his concussion.

“Um,” he scrambled for an answer, “Probably ‘27 Wagons Full of Cotton?’”

Kyle nodded, still staring off, “I can see that. That sort of suits you. It suits you a lot, actually… I like ‘The Glass Menagerie.’”

“I can see that… It, uh, it sorta suits you, too… For some reason you remind me of the character Laura. That’s stupid, I know, y’all two ain’t nothing alike…” Kenny bit his lip, “Kyle, why isn’t Stan okay?”

Kyle tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“What did you mean when you wrote he ain’t okay?” he pressed on, doing his best to be delicate, “Do you mean he ain’t okay with what happened between us? The kiss? Or is it something else?”

“Um-” Kyle’s voice broke and his face went red.

“Oh Kylie, it’s okay,” Kenny urged, “You can tell me. Honest.”   
Kyle looked like he wanted to cry, and Kenny’s heart broke at the sight of it, “Kylie, what’s the matter?”

“Stan hit me.”

Something sunk in Kenny’s stomach.

“Oh fuck no,” he muttered guturally, his insides squeamish and squeezing.

Kyle hugged himself, “I- I walked to your house in the rain. It was cold. I was at your house when I realized I needed to get my candles, so I went back to the apartment. He was drunk. I kept bothering Maple, and that made him really upset. He- um, he hit me across the face and shoved me into the shelf, and some books fell on me. And, um- I got a concussion.”

“...”

“...”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Kyle’s eyes went wide in panic, “Ken-”

“-I’m gonna kill him,” he started backing out of the storage closet.

“Wait. Please don’t,” Kyle darted forward, raising his hands to Kenny’s chest, “Wait, hold on, Ken, you can’t. You can’t. You’re not serious, right? You’re just exaggerating. You’re not actually going to-”

“-Believe me, I’m serious,” Kenny pushed Kyle’s hands off of him, “Move, Kyle. I don’t want you to get hurt tryna stop me.”

Kyle grabbed fistfuls of Kenny’s shirt to halt him, “No, Kenny! Calm down! Let’s talk about this! We can-”

-The door of the storage closet swung open so suddenly it made them flinch. Stan stormed into the room with Ike hot on his heels. A storm was ablaze in his dark brown eyes, his teeth bared and nostrils flaring.

“Not going to kiss, huh?” Stan barked, his dark gaze practically preying on them, “So I’m supposed to believe that you closed yourselves in a closet just to talk and be friendly?”

Kyle recoiled into Kenny’s chest, now gripping onto his shirt as if his life depended on it, and Kenny wrapped his arms around him as if his life depended on it, too, “Back off! You ain’t getting near him!”

Ike came around the corner, asserting himself in front of them, “The fuck is going on?”

“Stan hit Kyle!” Kenny shrieked, pulling Kyle even tighter against him to the point where it felt like their ribs were crashing into each other. He could feel Kyle trying to push away, but he didn’t  _ dare _ let him go, not when Stan was less than a foot away.

Stan went frozen at the accusation, and so did the air in the room.

Ike’s eyes were as piercing as needles, “Marsh. Tell me that isn’t true.”

Stan was terrifying. And terrified. He was the living embodiment of a fight or flight scenario. He looked like he wanted to run in and hurt someone, but at the same time, he looked too frightened to move a muscle.   
“I-” his gaze landed on Kyle, “Babe, hold on. Don’t bring Ike and Kenny into this. We can fix this. You and I can-”

“-No!” Kenny fired back, “Don’t even  _ think _ about getting near him!”

Ike stared at his brother, “Kyle, you lied to me? You told me you fell. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Don’t get mad at Kyle!” Kenny intervened, “Get mad at Stan! It’s all Stan’s fault!”

“Wait just a damn minute, Ken!”

Stan was getting uncomfortably close, and it was infuriating. After shying Kyle to the side, he rocketed forward and  _ rammed _ his hands into Stan’s chest, knocking him back against the closet door, “Shut up, Stan! You ain’t in charge around here!”

Retaliating with the speed of light, Stan slapped Kenny’s hands away. He pushed back with  _ twice _ as much force as Kenny used.   
“What the hell, man?!”

Kenny lurched forward, throwing a sloppy punch across Stan’s face. He felt a rush of adrenaline when his knuckles collided with the bone of Stan’s jaw, slightly wincing at the new pain in his fist.

He punched Stan’s face a second time before he could react.

Kenny was internally screaming at himself for letting the impulsive, brash, improvisio side of himself take over, but was also satisfied by the release of it. He had been yearning to punch Stan for  _ days _ now, and finally doing it gave him a cathartic release. Kenny felt like he was unlocking some kind of innate urge to protect and defend, something so primal it felt like narrators would talk about it in National Geographic documentaries.

Maybe it was just the thespian in him, but Kenny felt like he was  _ thriving _ with his new white knight persona.

He punched again, but Stan retaliated by kicking his stomach and shoving him back against the shelves of the storage room. He felt his breath leave him, like a vacuum sucked every last ounce of oxygen away.

Before he could get up from the ground, Stan  _ slammed _ Kenny’s head into the shelves by his hair, sending a shock of pain to reverberate across his skull.

Kenny didn’t even try getting up from the ground, he just tackled Stan’s knees, forcing him to collapse against the tiled floor along with him. They were a tangled heap on the ground, limbs knocking into limbs with a beastly frenzy, and escalating with every second. Their fight devolved to a struggle between animals.

Eventually, Ike tried intervening. He stepped between them and started pushing them apart from each other, screaming something along the lines of: “Knock it off! Knock it off! Talk it out like adults, goddamn it! I hate both of you!”

It wasn’t until Ike intervened that Kenny realized Kyle hadn’t said a word throughout their whole fight. At this point, Kenny had Ike on his shoulder and Stan trapped in a headlock, and he intentionally broke focus from the fight to check on him. His heart broke when he saw that Kyle was nearly panicking. Kyle stood at the back end of the closet with his hands over his ears. He pressed them against his head as if he were in pain, and Kenny immediately understood what the gesture meant.

“Oh shit, guys,” he whispered, nearly forgetting about the fight entirely, “Guys, shut up. Be quieter. His concussion. He’s sensitive to loud noises. Be quiet.”

“Don’t say that like you’re some kind of hero or something!” Stan cried, wrenching free from the headlock and propelling forward.   
Ike caught him and strained to hold him back, but Stan still managed to scream, “You’re just as much at fault as I am, Kenny! Kissing him like that! What the hell were you-”

-Kyle whimpered again, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he clamped down on his ears.

“Stan, shut up,” Kenny said through clenched teeth.

“Listen, I’m not defending what I did! I know it was wrong! And I’m sorry!” Stan yelled much too loud, even as he was calming down, “I’m just saying that you have no right to act like I’m the only bad guy here, not after the way you and Kyle have been treating me the last few weeks!”

“Hey, man. You can’t bring Kyle into this,” Kenny twitched. He wanted to scream.

“Can’t I?! He’s  _ my boyfriend, _ and he-”

“-Not anymore,” Ike cut in, his voice as needle-sharp as his impenetrable stare.

Stan’s face fell, and all of a sudden, he stopped struggling, “What? Ike, hold on, you don’t mean-”

“-No, Ike’s right,” Kenny snarled, “He ain’t your boyfriend no more.”

Stan and Kyle both paled, and looked to each other in a panic.

Something about it offended Kenny.

“Don’t look at each other all sappy-eyed like that,” he said, “The two of you are done. Stan, you need help, and Kyle, you need somebody better, ‘kay? Y’all are done.”

“You can’t say that, Ken,” Stan shook his head, “You- You’re not in charge of us. We can get over this and pretend it never happened okay? I can get better, and I can go back to treating him like a prince, and we can-”

“-Don’t even  _ dream _ of it,” Kenny said.

Kyle, having recovered from his head pain, pressed a hand to Kenny’s shoulder, “Wait, don’t say that. Stan’s right. We can get better. I don’t want to break up with him, Ken, I-”

“-Kyle, stop it.”

“No, please-”

Stan jumped the gun, “-If he says he doesn’t want to break up, then he doesn’t want to break up! You can’t just make that decision for us! We’re  _ adults _ . And we’re meant to be together!”

Ike rolled his eyes, “Oh, shut up. You know damn well Kyle’s just talking out of his ass right now.”

“Ike,” Kyle looked hurt, “I’m not.”

“No, you are, you definitely are,” he crossed his arms, “You know this asshole isn’t good enough for you, Kyle. You don’t mean what you’re saying.”

Kenny bit the inside of his cheek, “Kyle ain’t talking out of his ass, Ike, he’s talking out of his concussion. So lessen up on him, alright? He doesn’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Ky, just stop, okay?” Kenny urged.

“I can take care of him just fine!” Stan whined. He looked like he was seconds away from breaking into tears.

Ike tsked, “Clearly.”

“Stanny, don’t you dare cry, dude,” Kenny shook his head, “You ain’t allowed to cry here. Ky’s the only one who’s allowed to cry right now. Y’all are done, alright?”

Ike nodded, “You’re moving out, Marsh. You’re packing your things the second we get back to the apartment.”

Stan was wrestling to fight back his tears, “But- But you can’t kick me out of my own house. Ho-Hold on. This is all happening so fast. I don’t even- I can’t believe- Hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“-You can’t kick Stan out,” Kyle stated, instantly ensnaring the attention of everyone in the room, “It’s our apartment. We share it. He pays for half of it. The apartment is his just as much as it is mine. We have to live there together.”

“Kyle, no.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

Kenny pursed his lips, “Maybe Kyle’s got a point.”

_ “No!” _ Ike snapped.

“He’s got a point about one thing,” Kenny bit back, “We can’t just kick Stanny-boy out. Lord knows if we do that, he’ll end up drunk on the streets and he’ll never, ever, ever get better. Besides, like hell I’m gonna let Kylie live there all by himself. Stan can stay in the apartment, but Kyle and Ike, the two of y’all are staying with me, okay?”

“Hm. I can live with that,” Ike said.

“Wait-” Kyle looked like he was at a loss for words.

“You hear that, Marsh?” Ike turned to face Stan, “I’m helping Kyle pack up his things, and then you’re done.”

“Pack my-”

-Stan was just as bewildered as Kyle was, “Wait a minute- Hold on-”

“-No, not another word from you.”

“Ike, he only-”

“-This is just a cruel joke, right?” Stan sobbed, bringing a hand to his mouth, “Y-You don’t really mean-”

Kenny was beginning to feel sick watching Stan destroy himself, which was, in turn, destroying everyone else around him. He hated seeing this. He had to stop it. He had to stop it  _ now. _

“First of all, I said you ain’t allowed to cry, Stanny,” he said, “Second, I’m closing the gym early. We’re going home. Come on.”

In one sweeping gesture, he wrapped one arm around Ike’s shoulders and the other around Kyle’s. He pulled Kyle especially close to his side as he led them out of the storage closet and towards the gym’s exit, helping Kyle walk at a pace that his concussion otherwise wouldn’t allow.

“Kenny, what’s the matter with you? Let’s talk, please!” Stan followed them like a lost puppy, hurt, confused, and nearly crying.

Kenny walked faster.

Stan reached forward and took Kyle’s arm, trying to break him away, “Kyle!”

“Shit, dude!” Kenny exclaimed. All of a sudden he was wrestling with Stan all over again, this time with Kyle right in between them. Kyle was flailing and squirming to get away, and it was heartbreaking to see that he clearly didn’t understand what was going on around him, and  _ Jesus Christ,  _ Stan was  _ strong. _ His athletic prowess was something Kenny had never wanted to face before, but now he was fighting it with everything he had.

When he heard sobs break out, Kenny nearly lost it.

_ “I said you ain’t allowed to cry, Stan! You’re such a-” _

-It was Kyle who was crying. One of his hands was trapped in Stan’s grip, and the other hand was rammed against his ear, trying to block out the noise. He was barely breathing, it was more like he was gasping, as tears burst from his eyes in explosive streaks.

It was the first time Kenny had ever seen him cry.

And Kenny knew then and there that he would do everything in his power to assure this would be the  _ last _ time he saw him cry, too.

When Kyle started crying, Stan backed off. He looked so pitiful, so heartbroken. Stan just had the love of his life ripped away from him, right before his eyes, and by now, there was nothing he could do to get him back.

If Kenny didn’t know any better, he would feel bad for him.

Stan wiped his hands over his mouth, “I-I’ll go home.”

“Good,” Kenny said, wrapping an arm around Kyle. Just in case.

“Forget what I said about going back to pack Kyle’s things,” Ike said, having watched the whole exchange with cold, dead eyes, “Let’s just go straight to McCormick’s house. We’re done here.”

“Agreed,” Kenny muttered. He could feel Kyle’s ribs stuttering up and down between gasps and sobs, and he knew that they had to get going. They needed to get somewhere safe.

The four of them walked out of the gym together, Stan dawdling behind like an even  _ more _ lost puppy, more hurt, more confused, and even  _ closer  _ to crying. But Kenny knew that Stan wouldn’t dare shed a tear, not after that warning Kenny gave him, and not while Kyle was crying in concussed agony right in front of them.

They parted ways in the parking lot, Stan taking his (and Kyle’s) car back to his (and Kyle’s) apartment, and the rest of them gathering outside Kenny’s truck. Ike and Kenny helped Kyle into the backseat, before the car door closed and the two of them were outside together.

Kenny was uncomfortable. It was such a subtle emotion compared to the destitute betrayal and blaring rage he felt only a few moments ago, but it overwhelmed him nonetheless. He felt awkward standing out here in the parking lot with the sun barely up in the air, his best friend/love interest crying behind the closed door of his truck, and the little brother of his best friend/love interest staring at him intimidatingly.

“Did Marsh hurt you?”

Kenny hesitated, “Um,” he scanned himself for injury, “I don’t think so. Well, I mean, yeah. Obviously. I got a little roughed up. But not badly.”   
He felt awkward. He felt like he needed to say something back, “Did- um, what about you? Did he get you?”

“Not badly,” Ike replied.

There was a beat of silence.

“Uh, Ike? Are you, like, mad at me or something?”

“What?” Ike said ‘what’ like it was a statement, not a question, “No. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno? You seem pissed off?”

“I think I have a right to be.”

“Well yeah, duh, but at Stan, not at  _ me.” _

“I’m not pissed off at you, per say,” Ike said methodically, his dark eyes piercing Kenny’s soul, “Just confused, I guess. There’s one thing I don’t get.”

Kenny was bewildered, “Um. What?”

“I was there that day. I was right at his side. But Kyle didn’t tell me about what Marsh did, he waited to tell you.”

Ike was an enigma. Kenny had no idea what emotion he was feeling right now, or if he was feeling an emotion at all. Ike could’ve been innocently teasing him just as much as he could’ve been deliberately badgering him. Kenny hadn’t a clue. But whatever game Ike was playing, Kenny didn’t like it.

“Dude, stop it,” he demanded, “Ky didn’t tell you ‘cause you’re a distant asshole who never appreciates how much he loves you. The fact that you’re tryna turn this shitshow into somethin’ about yourself proves you’re just like Stan. Just shut up, okay?”

If Ike was offended, or even remotely surprised, he didn’t show it. He just looked bored.

But Kenny didn’t care. Ike’s nonchalance was seriously the  _ least _ of his worries right now.

Without offering another word, Kenny stalked off to the front of his truck and got in the driver’s seat. He ignited the engine, looking back in the rearview mirror to see Ike crawling into the backseat beside his brother. Ike rested his hand on Kyle’s knee, probably as a way to comfort him, and Kenny nodded in approval.

He pulled the truck out of the parking lot and started on the road towards home.

Home. He wondered if Kyle would ever call Kenny’s house his home one day. He felt so selfish to wonder about such a thing at a time like this, but he couldn’t help but think about it. (And maybe kind of hope for it?)

But that didn’t matter right now. He just needed to get Kyle back to his home, where they would all be safe, and Kyle could cry to his heart’s content.


	17. Chapter 17

“What do you think they’re doing up there?”

“Probably banging.”

“Oh my goodness,  _ Ike,” _ Karen went pink, covering her face with her hands.

“What? You don’t think they are?” Ike asked casually. He was sitting on the kitchen counter like a frat boy at a college party. His legs were spread, his breadth was poised, and a laptop balanced on his knee. The combination of his relaxed posture and his intimidating stare made him resemble a figure of power in the small kitchen, but Karen wasn’t intimidated by any means. If anything, she was only confused.

She was confused because Ike wasn’t what she expected him to be.

When she and Kyle dined at Harbucks a few days ago, they had talked for hours, going on side-tangents and needless conversations, joshing, smiling, and having fun getting to know one another. Being the devoted siblings that they are, it didn’t take long for conversation to shift to the subject of their brothers. Karen had been brutally honest when she had spoken of Kenny, “I love him with my whole heart. He does absolutely everything for me, and I probably wouldn’t be alive without him. No cap, seriously, I would probably be dead. Like, he feeds me and all, so yeah. But the  _ least _ he could do is wash his clothes every once in a while! And I hate that he cusses for literally no reason whatsoever!”

Kyle laughed in response. Then Karen asked him about his brother, and a smile bloomed on his face. In Kyle’s stories, Ike was a godlike genius with herculean qualities and uncompromising potential. Kyle had spoken with so much reverence and adoration that he had painted Ike out to be the most incredible person Karen had ever heard of in her life.

But what Karen saw right now in the McCormick kitchen on a rainy Saturday afternoon was far from that. She saw a kid just like herself. He was tall, a little more on the muscular side, and lax with every bone in his body. His skin was pale as a result of the sun-less Canadian winters, and his hair and eyes were as dark as could be. He wore blue-light glasses as he worked on his laptop, those opaque black eyes flitting back and forth between the screen and Karen.

He looked bored. Really, really bored. As if he hadn’t just made a lewd suggestion when Kyle and Kenny were literally just upstairs and easily could have heard it.

_ “No,” _ Karen insisted, pouring milk into the iced coffee concoction she was brewing, “I don’t think they’re  _ banging. _ They’re probably cleaning up the third bedroom so Kyle can move in. It’s a mess up there. I mean, we’re going to unfold the convertible couch bed for the two of you to share for the next few nights, but he can’t sleep there forever, you know? I have a feeling he’ll move in eventually.”

“Thought this place was a two-bedroom.”

“It’s a three-bedroom. We just don’t need the third bedroom ‘cause there’re only two of us. This house is bigger than it looks.”

“This house wouldn’t happen to have a fax machine, would it? Or at least a printer?”

“Um,” Karen had to think, “Oh. Yeah. There’s a fax machine in the third bedroom, actually. Do you need its user address or something?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Ike turned his computer towards Karen so she could type in its information to sync the devices.

“Do you need to fax something for university?” she asked as she typed, her untrained fingers tapping the keys with insecure lethargy.

“No. Kyle’s doctor is going to release his test results sometime today. Doc said he’d fax them so that we’d have a tangible copy.”

“Makes sense.”

After Karen finished setting up the fax machine to Ike’s computer, they sat in silence for a moment or two, neither of them willing to be the first to break the silence.

Then Ike said:   
“Is it really that far-fetched to think they’re banging?”

Karen was taking a sip of her coffee when he said that, and just barely held herself back from sputtering it out, “S-Stop saying it so casually! And yes! It  _ is _ far-fetched. After everything that happened yesterday? My goodness.”

“Hm,” Ike hummed methodically, “I’m assuming your brother told you what happened, then?”

When she didn’t immediately respond, Ike added: “He told you about what happened with Marsh, right?”

Karen nodded slowly, “Yeah. I could tell he didn’t really want to, like he wanted to protect me from the truth or something. But we tell each other everything… so he sorta had to, you know? He told me about Stan, and Kyle, and everything. It-” she took a breath, “-I don’t like any of it. Kyle didn’t deserve any of that. And Stan, oh goodness, I had no idea he was even capable of- It’s all just so-… so sad.”

“‘Sad’ doesn’t do the situation justice.”

“Of course not. I just- I dunno. I don’t know how else to say it.”

“Dismal? Abhorrent? Catastrophic?”

“Okay, no need to flex on me, Mister Junior Scholar,” Karen tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder, “You know what I mean, though. I just think that after everything that’s happened, it’s probably going to take some time for them to calm down before-… well. It’s just going to take some time for them to calm down.”

“Before what?”

“Never mind.”

Ike snorted, tapping the keys on his laptop, “Doesn’t matter. I know what you were going to say.”

Karen felt herself smile. Adopted or not, Ike’s confidence reflected his older brother’s in every way (not including Kyle’s more recent timid behavior, of course). It was like Ike just  _ knew _ he was the smartest in the room, but almost in an endearing way.

“What was I going to say?” she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, “Enlighten me.”

“You were going to say something girly like ‘before they fall in love,’” he said it almost disdainfully, “I would have worded it as ‘before they heat up.’”

Karen giggled, “So you think they’re crushing on each other, too? I knew it was obvious. Those oblivious dorks.”

“Oh please,” Ike rolled his eyes much like the way Kyle does, “Those two are doing far more than just crushing on each other.”

“They’re not banging!”

“No, but they kissed.”

This time, Karen couldn’t hold herself back from spitting out her coffee.

Ike wiped the coffee from his blue-light glasses in a completely composed and undisturbed manner, “Well that was unnecessary.”

“They  _ kissed? _ You’re kidding!” Karen gawked.

Ike went back to talking as he worked on the computer, “I’m not kidding. They kissed in the airport just before McCormick boarded his flight.”

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“Why didn’t Kenny tell me?!”

“Probably because he didn’t want to get doused in iced coffee.”

“… Good point,” Karen took a rag out from a kitchen drawer and started to mop up the brown puddles on the countertop, “I just- I can’t believe they- Wow. Wow. This is so exciting. This is great. This is fantastic, isn’t it? It’s so good. I mean, now that Stan’s- you know- Now that he’s not in the picture anymore-”

“-What makes you say that?” Ike asked without looking up from his laptop.

The intensity of the question begged Karen to hesitate.   
“What makes me say what? That Stan’s out of the picture?”

“Yes.”

It was so strange how little Ike spoke.

“Well,” Karen wrung the rag in her hands, “He’s gotta be, right? Kenny’s not going to let Stan near Kyle ever again. Without him, Kenny and Kyle might actually have a chance to, you know, get together. Fall in love. That type of thing.”

“Hm,” Ike stopped typing and took a breath to say, “That’s nice and all, but totally unrealistic. It’s going to be a chore to separate Marsh and my brother. An absolute chore. They still pay bills together, for one thing, so there’s a legal restraint there. They also devoted their entire lives to each other up until they broke up yesterday, so there’s a moral restraint in play, too. Not only that, but knowing my brother, at some point he’s going to bang on Marsh’s door and try to set things straight and get some answers. They aren’t going to let each other go so soon. Old habits die hard. I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

Karen lowered her head, letting Ike’s words sink in. The claims he made were burdensome and unsettling, but she had to admit that they could be very true. It was awful to think about, but it was understandable.

She was in the same sort of situation, actually. Karen and Kenny had polar opposite opinions of their mother. Kenny wouldn’t say it out loud, but Karen knew he secretly hated the woman to death and wanted nothing to do with her after her arrest. On the other hand, Karen couldn’t help but sympathize with her. She still loved her mom. She knew her mom was a bad person and made a lot of mistakes, but the good memories they had together made Karen want to overlook all her wrongdoings.

It was awful, but it was life.

“I understand,” Karen said softly, unaware if Ike would understand just how much she actually  _ did _ understand.

“However, I have to give credit where it’s due,” Ike said, instantly catching Karen’s attention, “If anyone’s going to help my brother get over that hippie, it’s McCormick.”

Karen felt hope rekindle inside her, “You think so?”

“I would like to think so, yes,” Ike looked away from his laptop, taking off his blue-light glasses and folding them, “Kyle seems… more at ease, I suppose, when they’re together. Less stressed. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but for some reason, Kyle trusts that redneck more than he trusts me.”

“Oh, Ike, don’t say that. I’m sure he-”

“-I’m not complaining or anything, I’m only stating an indisputable fact,” Ike said blandly, “Kyle waited to tell McCormick about the abuse instead of telling me upfront. He trusts him. I think he needs McCormick the most right now.”

“I think so, too,” Karen said, feeling a sigh of relief escape her. After the breath left her, an ugly thought tugged at the back of her mind and it made her feel nervous again, “Hey, Ike?”

“Yes?”

“Do you-” she twisted her hair, “Do you think they’re going to, you know, be okay in the end?”

Ike was still for a moment, pressing his folded glasses against his chin in deep thought, before he said, “I’m not sure. Define ‘end.’ Is there even an ‘end?’”

“We can help them,” Karen said, a moment too quickly.

“Hm,” Ike nodded, “Yes. Yes I think we can.”

“Let’s make a pact,” Karen said, a childish smile starting to form on her face. Moving her hand forward, she stuck out her pinkie finger, “Me and you are going to do everything we can to make sure our brothers get together.”

“Technically, it’s ‘you and I,’” Ike said monotonously, rolling his eyes as yet another habit that mimicked Kyle. He wrapped his pinkie finger around hers, “But yes. We’ll make sure they’re well taken care of.”

“We’re going to help them get together.”

“Yes, however, I’m afraid most of the task will fall on your shoulders.”

“What?” Karen blinked, “What makes you say that?”

“I can’t be here for long, you know,” Ike confessed, a hint of surrender leaking into his otherwise flat tone, “I have to go back to Canada in only a few days. I can’t be here for Kyle forever.”

“Oh Ike,” Karen smiled sincerely, “It won’t be a burden to take care of him at all. I would  _ love _ to spend more time with him. He’s so lovely.”

“You won’t let anything happen to him when I’m gone, will you?”

He almost sounded afraid.

“No way. I pinkie promise,” her smile grew grander, “I’ll take care of both of them.”

They squeezed their fingers together, each giving an affirmative nod. This was a promise now. There was no going back on it.

As their pinkie fingers parted, Karen giggled nervously. She couldn’t help it. She always got panicky when things got serious.   
“W-Wait, hold on!” Karen sputtered out between bouts of giggling, “What on  _ earth _ did we just agree to?”

“Taking care of our big brothers because they’re idiots in love.”

Karen kept giggling, laughing until her ribs hurt. By the time she settled down, she was red in the face and struggling to regain her breath. She stirred her coffee around with a metal straw, knocking the ice cubes against the glass to make fun  _ klink  _ sounds, smiling a little at her own childishness.

Ike was back to working on his computer, his attention focused with stern rigidity. Karen couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the stark differences between Ike and herself. They were polar opposites in every way. It was miraculous how the two of them both agreed that Kenny and Kyle were meant to be together, and that they deserved happiness.   
If Karen and Ike, as different as they were, shared that same belief, it  _ had _ to be true.

Right?

* * *

Kenny was rambling. He knew he was rambling at this point. He had been talking for eight minutes.  _ Eight. _ By now, he was just speaking nonsense, but he couldn’t help himself.

“-and we can move that rug over there. And we can take out the dresser here, or if you really like it you can keep it, but of course if you don’t like it we can always repaint it or get rid of it entirely, like donate it or something. I mean, it’s just a dresser, I don’t really care, you can do what you want with it. And we can put your bed right here, and wait- hey, what kind of bed do you have? Twin? Queen? King? Full? Whatever you have, we’ll get it up here, but wait, hold on, did Stanny take the bed? I mean we could buy you a new bed and then we-”

-God he needed to stop. He was boring the hell out of Kyle. He was probably overwhelming him, too, by talking about moving in so soon, when the break-up was only yesterday.

He needed to stop talking. He needed to stop talking. He needed to stop talking.

“-Kylie, I’m so happy to have you here,” Kenny blurted out.

Kyle stared at him.

“I mean-...” Kenny fumbled over himself, “I really wish it was under better circumstances. Really. I’m sorry that-” he just barely managed to stop himself, “-I’m just sorry. But I’m glad you’re here. With me. You- You’re safe here. You know that, don’t you?”

Kyle had his arms folded over his chest as he looked around the bedroom, his green eyes flitting from surface to surface.

“Where exactly is ‘here?’” Kyle asked, looking at a mannequin toppled over on its side.

He had never been in the third bedroom before. No guests have. Kenny kept it closed off because he was embarrassed by how little he and Karen took care of it. He turned the third bedroom into an actor’s workshop, meanwhile Karen turned it into a beauty salon, and neither of them cleaned up after themselves. The room was a warehouse of notated scripts, paperback plays, colorful scarves, hemming supplies, dried out remover wipes, stolen props, and Kenny and Karen’s combined collection of makeup that piled up over the years. Now that Kenny and his sister were no longer dirt poor, they could afford to have things. Pointless things. Even stupid knick-knacks and trinkets they would never use, Kenny took liberty in keeping all of them, knowing fully well of the times he yearned to have things of his own as a child. Having this extra bedroom as an actor’s studio/makeup salon/junk room was like saying a big “fuck you” to his impoverished past.

Kenny laughed, realizing he didn’t have an exact answer, “-Well, I’d like to say it’s my studio. But Karen sorta turned it halfway into a salon. I guess it’s just a messy, artsy bonus room.”

“What do you mean ‘studio?’ Like art?” Kyle asked curiously.

“Not like  _ visual _ art,” Kenny tried to explain, “Not like paintings or watercolors. But technically art, yeah. I, um, I sorta use this as, like, my space. Like, my studio to just let go, rehearse, read, play my guitar, and act. It’s um-” he rubbed the back of his neck, “-I dunno, it's pretty special to me.”

Kyle looked at the books for a while longer, before his gaze flickered to an object towards the back of the room, “Hey Ken, is that your guitar right there?”

Kenny followed his gaze to the far side of the room, where his black acoustic guitar case rested on a chipping wooden stool. The case was only half-zipped shut as a result of Kenny’s spontaneity and lack of attention to detail. He always seemed to forget to zip it shut.

“Uh, yeah,” Kenny replied.

He couldn’t help but feel like Kyle had been asking something more underneath his question.

“Could you-?” Kyle bit his lip in embarrassment, blinking distractedly, “I don’t know, would it be weird if-? I mean, a while ago you said you would play me something one day…”

“Oh,” Kenny’s pulse quickened. He got excited, “Do you want me to-?”

Just as suddenly as Kenny’s excitement came, it immediately left him, seeing the bruise on Kyle’s cheek.

It didn’t belong there. His porcelain skin appeared a nearly ghastly shade of white compared to the darkness of the bruise. Seeing it made Kenny’s gut writhe uncomfortably. Just the thought of Stan, his best friend, doing that to  _ Kyle _ was just-

He hated this. He hated so much of this.

Kenny forced a smile, “Not right now, Kylie. Another time for sure.”

Kyle looked at him peculiarly, “You okay, Ken?”

“‘m just not in the mood to play,” he shrugged, “I dunno, I guess I was just thinking about things.”

“About me?”

Damn, Kyle was smart.

“Well… sorta…”

“About Stan?”

Kyle was so freaking smart. Even with his  _ concussion. _ Holy hell.

“Nah, I was jus’ thinking ‘bout how smart you are,” Keny rubbed the back of his neck, “The, um- The note thing. How you- Y’know, you wrote that shit down on a piece of paper instead of flat-out tellin’ me. I think the note thing was pretty smart of you.”

Kyle shook his head, “No, I don’t think it was. Looking back at it now, it was pretty pathetic that I didn’t just say it out loud.”

“No way, Kylie. It wasn’t pathetic at all,” Kenny pressed lightly, “It was smart. It’s like you were acting, y’know? You were mimicking that time you gave me a tip a week or so ago; it looked so natural. Stanny didn’t even realize what you were doing until it was already too late for him.”

“I miss him,” Kyle said, though the empty look in his eyes said otherwise, “I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kenny confessed quasi-guiltily. It’s not like there was a point to hiding it, “I’ve been thinking that I shoulda beat the shit outta him while I still had the chance.”

“Kenny, stop it,” Kyle snapped.

Kenny didn’t flinch. He never flinched when Kyle snapped.

He just shrugged again, “Can you blame me? The dude is-... was. The dude  _ was _ my best friend. I hate that he-... I hate that  _ I-... _ Fuck, I don’t even know. It’s so complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Kyle snorted, a  _ fraction _ of his usual sarcastic self peeking through.

Kenny smiled at him sadly. It was strange. The fact that Stan and Kyle were officially boyfriends didn’t matter; Kenny and Kyle both lost their best friend yesterday.   
They lost  _ lifetimes _ of friendship. Memories of goofing off at the bus stop, passing notes in class, firing curse words when they were way too young to say them, starting fights for no reason, trying cigarettes and weed for the first time, talking about girls and future aspirations, and seeing each other perform─Kenny at his plays, Stan at his games, and Kyle at his academic readings─ were all bittersweet now. The memories themselves were idyllic, but the overwhelming feeling of  _ loss _ that came with them was almost too much to bear. And Kenny knew nothing would ever be the same for them again.

Kyle wavered with uncertainty in the center of the actor’s studio. It was a stance so unbecoming of him, “I just wish I could’ve been better for him, and given him what he needed… There was just so much  _ abuse _ going on that I-”

“-What?” Kenny’s throat twitched, “Oh fuck, he’s hurt you more than once? Oh god, for how long? What’s he done to you?”

“No, Ken. Stan’s never done anything like that before. It-” he took a shaky breath, “It was me, alright? I was the abuser.”

“…”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Kylie…”

“I enabled his bad behavior. I was too strict with him. He was so good to me, and I just never-” Kyle grimaced in frustration, bringing his fingers to press at his temples, “-I never appreciated how much he-”

“-Kylie, stop. You’re breaking my heart here,” Kenny begged, “You weren’t bad to him, not at all. But even if you were, that doesn’t excuse what he did. Not at all.”

“I’m not saying it excuses anything,” Kyle sighed like he was tired, still pressing his fingers against his temple, “I’m only saying, well, you know… It’s understandable, I guess. If I were in his shoes, maybe I’d-”

“-Don’t you  _ dare _ say what I think you’re ‘bout to say,” Kenny warned.

He accidentally raised his voice too loud, and it made Kyle flinch and cover his ears. The sight of it made Kenny’s knees weak.

“God, what  _ happened _ to you, Kylie?” he asked softly. He couldn’t stop himself from pitying the timid convalescent wavering in front of him, who bore little resemblance to the fiery trouble-starter he used to be. He took a shaky breath before he made the dangerous move to ask, “Why’re you so… weak, Kyle?”

Kyle laughed.

It didn’t surprise Kenny. His actor training taught him that everyone dealt with trauma differently, and that with dissociation, it was completely normal to laugh in the face in danger or to smile when met with agony.

When his laughter subsided, Kyle’s tear-brimmed eyes met Kenny’s as he asked, “So you think I’m sick, too?”

“That ain’t what I meant,” Kenny said, though he was indubitably starting to believe it, “I meant why are you just letting yourself be pushed around? Why ain’t you fighting? Why ain’t you angry?”   
Whether it was due to his impulsiveness or just his deep devotion to the kid in front of him, Kenny couldn’t hold himself back from adding: “I miss you being angry, y’know.”

“Me too.”

Kenny’s breath stuttered, “Whaddya-”

“-I miss being angry, Kenny,” he made a weak gesture with his hands, like he was trying to form fists but couldn’t commit to it.   
“It’s like- I don’t know, it’s like being angry helped me. It kept me grounded. I know I said I grew out of it, but I don’t think that’s it anymore. I wish I had been better back in the gym. I could’ve stood my ground and started ranting and, I don’t know-- punching things! But I was just- I was so  _ pathetic _ back there, Kenny, and I still am. I don’t know what it is, but I just- I miss being angry. I miss being able to  _ feel _ it,” Kyle looked at Kenny like he was asking for help, “I can’t  _ feel _ it, Ken! I- I can hardly feel  _ anything!” _

By the time Kyle finished, he was trembling as though a bullet had struck him.

But Kenny wasn’t moving at all. He felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, leaving him breathless and stunned. He would have remained standing as still as a statue were it not for his improvisio heart; after taking the quickest of breaths, he lurched forward and sheathed Kyle in an immediate embrace. He hugged him with everything he had, taking in the feel of his spine through his shirt, the smell of his hair, and the quick titillations of his heartbeat against Kenny’s chest.

Kenny’s mind was whirring a mile a minute. He wished he were smarter and more articulate, because he didn’t know what to say. Even with years of Shakespeare’s language rolling off his tongue with perfected ease, Kenny had no clue what he could say that would comfort him.

Would now be a bad time to say “I love you?” Or was it the perfect time?

Then Kenny’s phone rang, emitting a high-pitched blare throughout the room.

“Oh, wow, uh,” Kenny was flustered, “I am so sorry. Jesus Christ. Now?  _ Now? _ Right now? Seriously? Oh fuck, I am so, so, so sorry.” 

“Ken, calm down, it’s fine.”

“Fuck and I was just about to drop a suave pick-up line.”

Kyle laughed meekly, “Thank God someone’s calling, then! I can’t take a corny sex joke right now. Who’s calling? I’ll need to thank them later.”

“Uh,” Kenny pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Someone with a New York area ID.”

Kyle gawked, “Holy shit, pick it up!”

“Now?” Kenny winced. He just wanted to go back to hugging.

“Yes! Now! Pick it up, Kenny! What the hell? Pick it up!”

Stifling a sigh, Kenny answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear, “Yeah, what’s up? Kenny’s speaking.”

He didn’t leave the room to take the call. This was his actor’s studio, after all. This was where he was at his best.

Kyle didn’t leave the room either. He didn’t even sit down. He stood where he was, only an arm’s length away from Kenny, eagerly waiting for good news.

Kenny waited for the man on the other line to finish speaking, and then replied:

“Nah. Sorry. I don’t wanna do that.”

Kyle’s jaw dropped, “Kenny, what are you doing?”

“I don’t wanna take this job, Kylie. That’s all,” he explained, covering the speaker with his hand to make sure the caller wouldn’t hear him talking to Kyle.

“You were offered a role?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not taking it?!”

“Nah, I don’t wanna-”

-Kyle ripped the phone from Kenny’s hands, telling the caller, “Just one moment, please!”   
He stared at Kenny in utter disbelief, his green eyes piercing, “Kenny. What the actual hell. Why aren’t you taking this job?”

“I just don’t wanna take it, okay? Gimme back my phone, alright?”

“No, not until you tell me why you don’t want to do this!” Kyle demanded. (Even with his demanding, it was obvious that Kyle wasn’t angry. He was only exasperated, partially irate. And really, Kenny felt the same way.)

“They want me-” Kenny’s shoulders slumped, “The casting director called. Some famous Broadway dude. He wants me for a Tennessee Williams play.”

“That’s-” Kyle gawked with wonder, “Kenny, that’s incredible! I love– _ You _ love- Tennessee Williams! Take the job!”

“But they’re doing  _ A Streetcar Named Desire,” _ Kenny explained, his voice disappearing, “They want me to play Stanley.”

“...”

“...”

“And?”

Kenny had to take a step back, “Whaddya mean ‘and?’”

“You don’t want to do it? I thought you loved Tennessee Williams!”

“Kylie, you  _ know _ why I can’t do that play,” Kenny stuck his hand out, “Please gimme back my phone. I hafta tell them I decline their offer.”

Kyle jerked the phone away with both hands, like a little kid trying to hide his favorite toy, “No way. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of playing the antagonist; you’ve done villains before.”

“Yeah, Kyle, I am afraid! In a play that’s about rape and abuse? Hell yeah I am!” Kenny exclaimed.

Kyle rolled his eyes aggressively, “It’s not about rape.”

“Yeah it is! Stanley literally-”

“-But that’s not what the play’s  _ about.” _

“Nah, it’s only about unhealthy relationships, abuse, sex, death, unhappiness, and male-dominated societies. Do I need to go on?”

“It’s not about that at all! It’s about sisterly love and the difference between fantasy and reality!”

“I don’t care if it’s about fucking  _ gophers, _ Kyle, I ain’t gonna play a rapist!”

“Just because of me?!”

“Yeah!”

“Asshole!”

“How am I an asshole?!”

“You’re giving up your chance of making it to stardom just because of what happened to me?!”

_ “Yeah!” _

Kyle flinched, covering his ears, and Kenny knew he had yelled too loudly. His shoulders drooped and his stomach turned over in his gut. Slowly, Kenny came forward and wrapped his arms around Kyle’s shoulders.

Kyle didn’t hug back, but he relaxed into Kenny’s hold, leaning his head against his chest.

Kenny bent down to whisper in his ear, “Yeah, Kyle. I love you, okay? I really, really love you and I just- I don’t feel comfortable with playing that role at all. I mean, he literally gets drunk and hits Stella, then he does  _ that _ to Blanche, and  _ oh fuck, _ dya know what I just realized?”

“Hm?” Kyle sounded sleepy, “What’d you realize?”

“His name is literally  _ Stanley. _ Oh my  _ god.” _

Kyle laughed again, but Kenny couldn’t tell if the laugh was a genuine laugh or another defense mechanism, “Maybe it was just meant to be.”

Kenny grabbed Kyle’s face in his hands.

“Don’t you ever say that,” Kenny demanded, his heart thumping in his ears, “Don’t you dare say that, Kylie. Don’t even think it.  _ No, _ he wasn’t  _ meant _ to hurt you!  _ Nothing _ excuses what he did to you, okay?”

Kyle simpered, the flesh of his face moving between Kenny’s hands, “I was just making a joke.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny. I ain’t laughing, and I ain’t doing that show.”

Green eyes flickered back and forth, as if he were trying to decide which of Kenny’s blue ones to look at, “Don’t you think the play would benefit you?”

“No.”

Kyle quirked an eyebrow, his face still between Kenny’s hands.

“Well… It- It wouldn’t benefit me  _ morally,” _ Kenny spoke, “But, like, in terms of my career… Yeah. Yeah, it’d be a boon. I can’t deny that.”

“Could you think about the job?”

Kenny grimaced, “I really don’t wanna…”

“I know you don’t, but could you please think about it? Could you not be impulsive for once, and just take the time to think this through? Please?”

“Don’t make me think about it…”

“Kenny,  _ please.” _

Kenny bent his head, pressing his forehead against Kyle’s.

“‘kay. I’ll give myself a week. No longer.”

“That’s fair. Thank you for thinking about it.”

“… Goddamn it.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you just swindled me into thinkin’ about playin’ a rapist. Holy fuck, you’re clever. And I thought that with your concussion, I’d finally have the chance to be smarter than you.”

“You wish,” Kyle teased, his voice light and airy, and astronomically  _ close. _

For a second, Kenny thought they were going to kiss.

“You might want to tell the casting director.”

“Oh shit, he’s still on the call, ain’t he?” Kenny laughed, before taking the phone and explaining the situation to the ever-so-patient director on the other line. The man was very accommodating, and permitted him the liberty of taking a week to decide.

When the phone call was over, Kenny breathed out a sigh of relief, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Then he locked eyes with Kyle and his heart melted all over again.

“I love you,” he said for no particular reason.

The bruise on Kyle’s face was hardly noticeable when he said, “I love you, too.”

Everything about this was perfect. Kenny was in his actor’s studio, his safe space, with the person he treasured most in the world. The ring lights from the dresser created a vibrant atmosphere wherein Kyle was given an ethereal glow, and the overhead hum of the air conditioner could have been mistaken for symphonic music in this divine space.

Kenny loved it here. And he loved that Kyle was here. And he loved that they didn’t even have to say anything to acknowledge how perfect all of this was.

There was a  _ beep, _ and then the fax machine (unceremoniously draped under old costume pieces) started to spew sheets of paper.

“What’s that?” Kyle tilted his head to the side.

Kenny’s mind drew to a blank, “Uh. I dunno. I don’t remember expecting anything. Maybe the casting director sent the script?”

He approached the fax machine, and his body went still when he read the first line on the paper.

“So? What is it?” Kyle came to his side.

Kenny’s mouth was as dry as chalk, “Your doctor’s notes. He got your results back.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, everyone! I just hit 10k user hits! Thank you to everyone for your support! After this, there's only one more chapter to go! This one and the next one will be longer than normal, but I hope they can be enjoyed nonetheless. I'm doing my best to tie everything up nicely and neatly, let's hope I can manage it! ;-;  
> Thanks for reading!

Folding the papers down the middle vertically, not horizontally, Kenny passed the doctor’s notes over to Kyle.   
“Here, I feel like I shouldn’t be lookin’ at these. They’re all yours,” he said, his heap of blonde hair flopping around as he surrendered them.

When Kyle took the papers, he had to squint at the fine text. The print blurred together, smearing and distorting across the page, almost resembling a Picasso painting in its abstractness. Kyle stared at the paper long and hard before he realized, with an eyeroll of silliness, “I just remembered that I can’t read. My concussion.”

“Oh,” Kenny blinked, “Right. I almost forgot about that. Hey, is, uh, is your school gonna be okay with, y’know, you bein’ illiterate and all?”

“I’m not sure. Ike says I shouldn’t go back for a few more days,” Kyle said, tenuously annoyed at the will of his brother, but also accepting because he understood the rationality behind it, “Catching up on lessons and missing assignments is going to be a bitch.”

Kenny frowned, “I wish I could help ya.”

The sheer degree of concern in his eyes was enough to make Kyle flush.

“Um,” he needed a distraction, “Could you read the doctor’s notes for me?” Kyle suggested, offering him the papers.

His memories of the doctor’s appointment were incoherent. All he really remembered was brooding on the examination table while Ike answered the doctor’s questions for him.   
One thing he distinctly remembered was how Ike had to help him go to the bathroom to provide a urine sample because Kyle was too weak and pained to do it on his own. That had been  _ humiliating, _ even more so that that memory was the  _ only _ clear one he had.

But Ike had been decent enough to not mention it afterwards, and Kyle supposed he was grateful for that.

Kenny was hesitant to take the papers; he looked like he was afraid of them.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked confusedly.

“Uh, I dunno. I just feel like I’m not really s’pposed to be looking at that. You’re sure you’re fine with me reading ‘em?”

“It’s not like I can read them on my own. It’s fine, Ken,” he insisted, trying not to smile.

Kenny licked his lips, “If you’re sure, then.”

Just as he stretched out his hand to take the papers, the door of the third bedroom swung open and Ike stepped inside. He walked with diligent purpose, almost speed-walking, as he entered, immediately snatching the papers from Kenny’s hands.

“What the hell are you doing, McCormick? It’s completely inappropriate, borderline  _ illegal, _ to read other people’s medical records. This is confidential information, you know,” he scolded flatly, straightening the papers as if in disgust.

Kenny was stunned, “I was just holding ‘em! Sheesh!”

Ike was wearing his blue-light glasses, likely because he had been on his computer before he came upstairs. He pushed the glasses up on his nose with his middle finger, “It’s still not any of your business,” he turned to his brother, “Come on, Kyle.”

He didn’t wait for a reaction and bounded off down the stairs, the doctor’s notes held straight between his hands.

Kyle rolled his eyes and took Kenny by the elbow, guiding him down the stairs in pursuit. Kenny let Kyle guide him with diligence, acting like he didn’t want to leave Kyle’s side. Something about that made Kyle smile deeper.

They gathered around the kitchen table, where Ike was sitting at his laptop with the papers in hand, while Karen was sitting with an iced coffee, one that looked more like whipped cream than actual coffee. She waved when they approached, waved as if she had not seen them in days. Kyle took a seat beside her at the table, and Kenny remained leaning against the wall like a “bad kid” in an 80’s movie.

“So, uh,” Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, “You’re reading the papers, Ike? Thought you said that shit was confidential.”

Ike rolled his eyes in annoyment, “I’m his kin. I have the legal right to read them, because he’s physically incapable of it at the moment.”   
Only Kyle heard the extra “idiot” Ike muttered under his breath, and he held in a laugh.

Ike made another annoyed sound as he started to scan through the papers, “Your stupid doctor didn’t order the test results categorically in any way. You’d think he’d at  _ least _ alphabetize them.”

“What did Kyle get tested for?” Karen asked.

“Just about everything you can think of. I didn’t want to take any chances, so I insisted that we cover anything and everything in the examination,” Ike replied, ending his sentiment with a subtle note of fondness. Ike and Kenny exchanged a private look between themselves, Kenny giving Ike some kind of obscure look of approval, and Ike responding with an expression that could minutely be translated to: “you’re welcome.”

Kyle made a  _ tsk _ sound, “Are you going to read the papers, Ike? Or do you plan on waiting until I die of old age first?”

“I hate you,” Ike said emotionlessly. He readjusted his glasses on his nose, “Let’s see here… yada yada yada… Okay, so it looks like you tested positive for anemia.”

Kyle nodded tenuously, “Yeah, I guess I should have seen that one coming.”

“To be fair, I’m anemic, too,” Ike said, pursing his lips, “It’s very common, actually.”

Karen smiled, the straw of her coffee clenched between her pearly white teeth, “I’m anemic, too. I just don’t like eating vegetables, I’ll admit to that. Anemia really isn’t that bad!”

Kenny was staring at them like they were all out of their minds, “Seriously? Am I the only one here who ain’t anemic?!”

“What? It’s just a minor iron deficiency.”

“Y’all  _ seriously? _ Learn to take better care of yourselves!”

“It really isn’t that bad!”

“God damn it, eat your iron! Eat some goddamn shellfish or something!”

“I can’t. I’m kosher.”

“Then eat some fucking spinach!  _ Jesus Christ!” _

Ike pinched the bridge of his nose, “McCormick, shut up before you make us all deaf. We don’t need another trip to the doctor’s office, now do we?”

“Goddamn it, fine! Why’re you so mean to me?”

Kyle smirked. But his contentment faded when Ike went back to sorting through the papers.

It didn’t occur to him until now just how  _ many _ papers there were. Was it normal for there to be so many? Just how many tests did Kyle take? He was having trouble remembering.

Ike flipped through the pages, reading only the important things out loud, “Okay, it looks like your cholesterol’s fine, your triglycerides are fine…”

“I’m just gonna pretend I know what you’re talking about,” Karen sipped her iced coffee.

Ike didn’t notice, “Let’s see, what else does this say? Hm… Okay, you’re showing flu symptoms, but we already knew that. Fucking Marsh making you walk out in the rain. … What else? Alright, it says here you display weakness in the girdle, pelvis, and quadriceps, but we pretty much already knew that, too.”

Kyle nodded knowingly, feeling a little ashamed of himself, meanwhile Kenny was staring daggers.

“Wait, hold up,” he said, his blue eyes flitting back and forth in a panic, “What’s that mean? I don’t get it. Why’s he weak?”

“Shut up,” Ike grumbled. His eye was twitching; to Karen and Kenny, he probably just looked angry, but Kyle knew that it meant Ike was starting to get worried.

Kyle’s throat went dry, “Ike?”

“Shut up, Kyle, I’m reading.”

“Ike, what was the result of the urine test?”

“I’m reading that right now, Kyle, just-” Ike brought a fist to his mouth, his eyes staring at the papers so intently it looked like he could burn a hole through them, “-Just shut up, okay?”

A silence ensued, and it made Kyle feel nauseous with discomfort. It was so quiet that he could hear his eardrum in his ears, pounding, and pounding, and pounding, and  _ speeding up. _ It went unsaid that Ike was reading for too long. Watching the motions of his eyes, it was clear that he was reading and rereading, and that made Kyle feel sick to his stomach.

Ike pushed his chair back, rising from the table with total composure.

Kyle could taste vomit in his throat, “Ike?”

“Excuse me,” he said, removing his bluelight glasses, “I’m going to call your doctor. I want to confirm something real quick.”   
Without any further explanation, Ike set all but one of the papers down on the table, and then walked off to another room with that solitary, menacing, sheet of paper clutched firmly in his fist. He locked the door behind him, but his voice still carried through the door. His words were unintelligible, especially under the throbbing of Kyle’s ears, but the sense of urgency in his voice as he spoke on the phone was indisputable.

“Kyle?” Karen asked, reaching for his hand, “Hey, are you nervous? You look nervous. I can re-paint your nails if you think it’ll calm you down.”

Kyle let go of her hand, opting to look through the doctor’s notes instead.

“Hey, woah woah woah,” Kenny cautiously exclaimed, approaching Kyle’s side in haste, “Hey, you ain’t supposed to be reading any time soon. It’s gonna make your head hurt even more.”

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek, “Fine,” he shoved the papers into Kenny’s chest, “Find something for me.”

Kenny blinked, “Uh.”   
When he realized how upset Kyle was getting, he nodded, using his finger to guide him in speed-reading the documents, “Whatcha want me to find?”

“The bill.”

Kenny’s finger stopped moving on the page, “Why?”

“So I can see how much I owe? What do you mean ‘why?’”

“I dunno, I just-” Kenny fumbled over his words, “I guess I thought you got everything paid for already. I thought you were, like, financially all dandy and good.”

“Since when did you think that?” Kyle retaliated, “Kenny, I’m worse now than I was before. When I lost Stan, I lost half my income. I think I have a right to see the bill.”

Kenny hesitated. His blue eyes flicked down to a large number at the bottom of a paper. He bit his lip, “So, um, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t ya once say you don’t have insurance?”

“Let me see it, Kenny.”

From the slumped shoulders and the forlorn expression on his face, it looked like Kenny was surrendering his entire soul when he handed over the doctor’s notes. Kyle held the papers as if they were made of gossamers, filmy and fragile and likely to break.

While it was true his eyes were straining to make out the exact images, he was still able to see the number of digits beside the dollar sign. He could quite clearly see  _ four  _ digits in the number, and that alone was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

His hands were shaking, making little earthquakes against the paper’s surface, “Oh God.”

Both McCormicks shared a worried glance.

Following the sound of an unlocking door, Ike re-entered the room with his phone and a paper in hand, talking as he walked, “Okay, so I just spoke some things over with your doctor and-”   
He noticed their panicked faces.   
“-Hey, what happened?”

Kyle’s teeth began to chatter. That alarmed him. It wasn’t even cold.

“Ike, I c-can’t afford this,” he managed to sputter out through his chattering teeth, the weight of the truth absolutely crushing him.

“Insurance should cover most of it.”

“I-I don’t have insurance.”

Ike was as still as a stone statue, “But you have an emergency savings account, don’t you?”

“No…”

Ike’s unyielding stare was impenetrable, “But- But Kyle, I don’t understand. You’re a finance major. You know better.”

“I know… Ironic, isn’t it? It’s only that Stan-”

The room stilled.

“I- um. I didn’t mean-… Stan just doesn’t like it when I take my school life to home life…”   
He hated the way they were all staring at him, like he was either wrong or completely out of his mind.   
“Really,” he insisted, “My finance work doesn’t belong at home. He’s allowed to spend his money any way that suits him. It’s not okay for me to control him just because I’m Jewish and like to complain.”

Now they were glancing between each other with necessity, no longer merely worried, but catastrophically distressed. Kenny and Karen looked sick to their stomachs, and even Ike’s emotionless mask was chipping and breaking away, apprehension practically boiling in his dark irises.

“What the fuck, Kyle,” he demanded.

When Kyle didn’t answer, Ike took his phone out again, “I’m going to re-confirm some things with your doctor, and maybe see if I can get some kind of loan or grant to help us out.”

Kenny stopped him before he could leave the kitchen.

“Hold up, squirt,” Kenny held Ike back by the cuff of his t-shirt, “I think you owe Kylie an explanation.”

“Don’t touch me, trailer trash,” Ike snorted, shaking Kenny’s hand off, “Why do I owe him an explanation for asking for a loan?”

“Not for that. For his test results,” Kenny said, “You said it yourself; the stuff on that document’s confidential information. He deserves to know, don’t he?”

The Canadian was still for a moment longer, before he managed to compose himself and return to his seat at the table. Kenny moved from the wall to the seat beside Karen, like he just knew something heavy was coming. All four of them were sitting around the table now, like some kind of delegation or private briefing. Everyone in the room had their eyes on Ike in anticipation for what he had to say.

Kyle jumped in his seat when he felt something clasp his knee.   
Then he realized it was just Ike squeezing it beneath the table again, doing it minutely so Karen and Kenny wouldn’t see.

The room took a breath before Ike cleared his throat and began to deliver the predicament, “So Kyle. Your urine tests. The doctor used them to assess if anything was wrong with your kidneys.”

Kenny spoke for all of them, “And?” he demanded, “You gonna tell us what the tests said?”

“The tests came back as inconclusive.”

The small kitchen went so quiet someone could hear a pin drop.

“Okay?” Kenny barked much like a dog, “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“It means the tests came back as inconclusive,” Ike bit back sharply.

“So what? That means we don’t know what’s wrong with him?”

“Oh, Ken,” Karen cut in, pressing a hand to his shoulder, “Don’t word it like that. There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with him, even if he is a little sick, there’s nothing  _ wrong _ with-”

“-No, there very well could be something wrong with him,” Ike argued, his fingers clamping around Kyle’s knee tightly.

“No, but  _ still. _ You shouldn’t word it like-”

“-Like  _ what, _ though?” Kenny begged confusedly, “Like, what kinda sick are we talking about here? I literally know nothing about diabetes or kidneys, I’m freakin’ out here. Explain it to me right now.”

“Could you be any more annoying?” Ike fired, “This isn’t about you, it’s about him.”

“I ain’t saying it’s about me! I just want some shit explained, that’s all! Is that too much to ask?”

“For someone who’s behaving like a child right now, instead of an actual, supportive adult? Yeah, I think it  _ is _ too much to ask.”

“Simmer down, squirt! I don’t like your tone!”

Karen made a swatting gesture with her hands, “Guys! Please! Calm down! Y’all haven’t given Kyle the chance to say  _ anything _ yet, and this is about  _ him!” _

After her outburst, three pairs of wild eyes all turned to Kyle. He felt hot under all the instant pressure, his face burning up and his stomach knotting. He could feel Ike’s hand on his knee squeezing even  _ tighter  _ now, and his grip was actually starting to hurt.

“Kyle?”

“Kylie, hon, I’m sorry,” Kenny said like he had his tail between his legs, “Sissy’s right. Say whatever you want, I’ll shut up for once.”

He hated all this attention. They were staring at him as if he were some kind of circus freak on display for the masses, eyes wide and breath clenched. It didn’t help that his head and ears were pounding and throbbing like the Tell-Tale heart beneath the floorboards, and it felt  _ sickening. _

Kyle covered his ears with his hands, stupidly thinking that would help drown out his cacophonous discomfort.

“Kyle? You alright?”

“I don’t feel so g-… well. I don’t feel so  _ well, _ I mean. I don’t… feel.”

Ike took a sharp inhale. His grip was to the point where it was bruising his knee.

Kyle winced, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kenny sighed, looking at him longingly.

Karen rose from her chair, “I’ll go get you some water. Would that help, Kyle? Do you want some water?”

He nodded, and Karen left the table.

It was now that Kyle noticed just how…  _ off _ Kenny was. He looked older. His brow was furrowed, his mouth was frowning, and his blue eyes were nearly grey with a sadness that was so outside of his character. He looked like he was mourning the loss of something.

“So what’s that mean for Kylie?” Kenny asked, his deepened voice adding even more years to his appearance.

“Well,” Ike looked downwards in solemn thought, “It could mean a number of things. It could just mean there was a simple mistake with the equipment and everything’s fine. More likely it means that there’s something wrong that the test wasn’t able to detect.”

“What’s wrong?” Kenny’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, “‘m sorry to ask so many questions, I just- I don’t know shit about this stuff, Ike, and it’s freaking me out.”

Ike was annoyed at having to explain everything, but managed to keep himself composed, “When in relation to the kidneys, urine tests can reveal many kinds of kidney diseases, injuries, acute failures, sometimes cancers, diabetic complications, among other things.”

“Wait, like, chronic kidney disease?” Karen voiced from the kitchen sink, her hand around a glass of water. She had asked it so abruptly that it made Kyle flinch.

Kenny’s eyes went wide, “Sissy, don’t-”

“-That’s… one of the things a urine test can detect, yes,” Ike lowered his head.

Karen looked heartbroken, “Kyle, isn’t that what your mom died of?”

He could literally  _ feel _ the blood drain from his face.

He had to look away from Karen—from everyone, really— when he gave a low-hanging nod, solemn and knowing.

The room was quiet and awkward. Karen’s question floated through the air as if it were some tangible thing, looming over their heads for all of them to see, serving as a daunting reminder of the precise danger they were in.

Kenny gave his sister a pointed look, addressing her with her full name, “Karen Kelsie McCormick.”

“Oh my goodness,” she slapped her hand over her mouth, her hazel eyes brimmed with tears, “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“-It’s fine,” Kyle said, trying to keep his head down.

Kenny looked at him like he was sorry, “Ky, no. She ain’t allowed to-”

“-No, it’s good she asked it,” Kyle said through trembling lips, “Because sh-she, I mean, Karen’s right, you know. I m-mean, I could be preparing myself to end up like Mom, and I didn’t even realize it.”

For the upteenth time, the room was quiet and still.

Karen gave Kyle the glass of water and returned to her seat, nervously twisting her hair.

Kyle clutched the glass like it was the only thing in the world keeping him stable.

“So what’s next?” Kenny broke the silence, looking to Ike for the answer, “Like what’re we s’pposed to do? I’ve never had an unconclusive test before.”

“Inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive.”

The Broflovski brothers said it at the same time, and something about that made Kyle smile, albeit a sad smile.

Kenny and Ike had sad smiles too, both of them looking at Kyle somewhat forlornly.

Ike respectfully waited for the moment to resolve, allowing the levity to linger, and then addressed Kenny’s question; “Well, I would say the first thing we need to do is either take Kyle back to his doctor or take him to a more professional doctor for a retest. Maybe more than one retest.”

Using one hand, Kyle gently pushed Ike’s hand off of his knee, “I can’t do that.”

“It isn’t a difficult process,” Ike insisted. He was noticeably surprised–and maybe even hurt– by Kyle pushing his hand away.

“It is for me,” Kyle admitted, internally rolling his eyes at himself when he distastefully proved  _ yet again _ that everything was apparently about  _ him _ these days, “I don’t think I can afford it, Ike.”

“You really meant that?” Ike raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you were serious.”

“I was… am. I am.”

“Health-care is stupidly expensive, Kyle.”

“Well forgive me for having health problems,” Kyle snapped, and then broke into sudden laughter.

They were all staring at him like he was crazy, and at this point, maybe he was. His random burst of laughter in the middle of his gut-clenching anxiety probably proved that he belonged in a padded cell.

“Kyle,” Ike looked directly at him, “I want to take you back to Canada with me.”

A cry of outburst was cut short, trapped inside the throat. But it wasn’t Kyle who made that sound, it was Kenny.   
His rugged jaw hung towards the floor, “What? Why the fuck would you want that?”

“Don’t look at me like that, McCormick. Close that mouth before a bug flies in,” Ike said aggressively, “Canada has free health care, idiot. And I want to keep an eye on Kyle as we figure out what’s going on with him in the upcoming days.”

“What, so you want to just whisk him away to a whole ‘nother country?!” Kenny exclaimed.

“Yes, for his own sake! Don’t sit there and tell me I’m not making the right decision.”

The surface of the water in Kyle’s cup was rippling as his hand started to shake.   
“Ike, hold on,  _ what _ decision?” he asked, dumbfounded, “I didn’t say I’d go to Canada with you! I can’t do that. I have school, I have work-”

“-Please,” Ike rolled his eyes, “Your school is just a community college that can’t offer you a good enough degree. Not only that, but you’re already doing poorly in your classes, aren’t you? I’d say you wouldn’t miss very much if you left now.”

Kyle was appalled. Not only was Ike’s proposition scarily sudden, but the things he was saying were downright cruel.

“Ike, you’re being mean,” he nearly whispered, so shocked that he couldn’t think of a better way to word it.

“I’m being logical, Kyle,” Ike sighed like he was bored, “If you can’t afford anything here in South Park, you’re just going to get worse.”

“We don’t even know if I’m sick! An inconclusive test means nothing! Either way, I’ll find a way to pay for everything.”

“How? What’re you going to do? Make a fucking lemonade stand? Sell that measly apartment of yours? Pull Dad out of the old folks home?”

Kyle stood up from the table so quickly that his chair fell backwards. The glass in his hand knocked over and spilled water across the table, but Kyle was too vehement to notice.   
“Don’t you  _ dare _ bring Dad into this! You haven’t visited him  _ once _ since he started living in the care facility!”

Ike’s jaw was clenched, “I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit! You haven’t even visited  _ me _ since he started living there! And now all of a sudden, you care just because my bank account hates me and my boyfriend hit me?! Fuck you!”

“Kyle. Be reasonable.”

“Fuck you!” he exclaimed again. Not too long after the curse fired out of his mouth, a spell of dizziness hit him.

It had been way too long since he last exploded like that, and his convalescent body wasn’t prepared for it. He brought a hand to his forehead and had to command himself to take deep breaths.

“I’m sorry, I-” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I need fresh air. I’ll- I’ll be back. Give me a second.”

He didn’t hesitate. He promptly turned around and marched straight outside to the front porch, praying to God he wouldn’t pass out from pure vehemence.

He didn’t realize it was storming until he was already outside and felt water fall on him from above. He stared up at the black sky in confusion, drops of rain hissing at his skin. When had it started storming? Had it been raining this whole time?

“Kylie?”

He turned around to see Kenny at the doorway, an awkward smile on his otherwise exhausted face.   
“I brought you an umbrella,” Kenny stated the obvious, holding a gigantic navy blue umbrella in the air.

Even in the chill of the rain, Kyle felt his face heat up.

“Thanks,” he said, not really knowing what else to say.

Kenny moved beside him, raising the umbrella over their heads in a swooping gesture. It would have been cinematically romantic were it not for their shared emotional discomfort.

“‘m sorry for what my sister asked,” Kenny said, bowing his head in respect.

“It’s okay,” Kyle sighed, “I’m more upset about what my brother said, to be honest.”

“Stupid little siblings.”

“Tell me about it.”

Kenny gave a half-smile, “Y’know, you got a lil’ angry back there. Got all fiery. It was kinda sexy, not gonna lie.”

“I got angry?” Kyle blinked, unable to remember clearly, “Oh. Well that’s good, I guess.”

Kyle’s lack of enthusiasm made Kenny’s half-smile disappear.

“You don’t really wanna…”

“Go to Canada? No. Not at all.”

“Okay… How, uh-” Kenny licked his lips, “How d’ya feel right now?”

“Sort of like you.”

Kenny tilted his head, “You feel like me? What, like, upset?”

“No. I feel poor,” Kyle snorted. He laughed a little, but nothing about this felt funny at all.

Kenny watched him with concerned eyes, moving the umbrella so that it sheltered Kyle better, “Hey, Ky?”

“Yeah?”

“The, uh, the thing about  _ A Streetcar Named Desire…” _

“Oh God, Ken, seriously?” Kyle stifled a whine, “With everything that just happened, this really isn’t the right time for-”

“-The guy on the call. He, uh, he told me what it pays, and-” he looked embarrassed to admit it, “-It’s a lot. It pays a  _ lot.” _

Kyle could already tell where this was going, and the prospect of it made his chest tighten. All of a sudden, his chest was so constrained that he couldn’t breathe.

“Ken, you- You want to-”

“-If it means your bills’ll get paid and your health’ll improve, then fuck yeah. I’ll sign whatever papers they shove down my throat if you can stay here in South Park where you’re happy.”

A gust of wind shifted the umbrella, and now rain was cascading down on Kyle’s shoulders. Rain sprayed in his face, making him shiver and step back.

Kenny was there to save the day, rushing forward to readjust the umbrella to protect both of them. They were safe from the rain now, but Kyle still sneezed from the chill.

“Gesundheit,” Kenny said, watching him carefully.

“But you don’t want to play Stanley,” Kyle sniffed, rubbing his raw nose with the crook of his elbow, “It’d be so wrong for you, Ken, you’d be so unhappy.”

“Well, yeah,” Kenny frowned.

“...”

“...”

“Kenny…”

“But it’d be fine, Kylie, it would. As long as your tests get paid for, right?” Kenny smiled, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening.

The wind blew his hair onto his face, and Kyle couldn’t help but notice all the grey strands compared to the blonde ones. Kenny was so tired. His hair was greying and his skin was spotting and wrinkling. He was aging so quickly with his constant worrying, impulsive behavior, and unimaginable working hours. He was driving himself to an early grave for sure.

Kyle felt the worst jab of guilt he had ever felt in his life.

“Oh God, Kenny, I would never make you do that for me,” he said, his voice more hoarse than it’s ever been.

“I know,” Kenny said, “But I wanna.”

“No you don’t.”

“…”

“…”

“No, I don’t,” Kenny sighed, “But I don’t want you to-… I don’t know, I don’t want you to get sick, or sad, or whatever… I- I just want you to be okay.”

“It’s too late for that, Kenny.”

“… Owie. Harsh,” Kenny looked him up and down, “Stan really fucked you up, huh?”

“Let’s go inside. It’s really stormy out,” he said, watching the rain instead of Kenny’s heartbroken expression.

Kenny watched the rain, too, and how the raindrops were getting smaller and smaller, “We can stay out here if you’d like. We got an umbrella. The rain is stopping. I don’t think it’s gonna storm for long.”

“Hm,” Kyle hugged himself tighter, “Yes it will.”

He turned around and went inside. Whether Kenny followed him or not was up to him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Attempted Non-Con, (slight) violence

If someone were to ask Kyle what it was like to live with Kenny right now, he would reply with misquoted Shakespeare: “Something is rotten in the state of the McCormick household.”

The deciding process regarding _A Streetcar Named Desire_ loomed over all of them like the storm clouds that never went away these days. Today was the final day for Kenny to make his choice, and the air was stuffy with tension.

The last few days were rough for all of them, but Kyle knew that Kenny was having the worst of it. After toilsome late-night performances and excruciating post-midnight gym shifts, Kenny would come home and immediately lock himself in the third bedroom. To do what, Kyle didn’t know for certain. But if he were to guess, he would say Kenny was most likely banging his head against the wall trying to reach a verdict with  _ Streetcar. _ (And that’s not a metaphor. Kenny was probably  _ actually _ banging his head against the wall. There were times Kyle could distinctly hear a  _ thump thump thump _ from behind the studio door.) Kenny hadn’t shown much of himself within the last week, but when he had, it had always been with a forced smile and baggy eyes.

Kenny was beating himself up over this. For Kyle.

And if that didn’t make Kyle feel bad enough, it was also his fault that Kenny and Ike were at each other’s throats now. Every time they merely glimpsed at each other, they were suddenly screaming curses, arguing about Kyle’s pressure to go to Canada. Kenny would always shout whatever nonsensical but wholeheartedly emotional thing came to mind, while Ike would retaliate with pre-determined rebuttals, always cold and calculated in his delivery. Sometimes they screamed while Karen and Kyle were in the room with them. Sometimes they threw things.

If this whole ordeal had happened a few months ago, back when Kyle was still pugnacious and healthy, there is no doubt that he would have immediately solved the problem. He would have out-argued both Ike  _ and _ Kenny. He would have put his nose to grindstone resolving tension from the house entirely. He would have handled the situation perfectly, like an adult, like  _ himself. _

Instead, Kyle found that he didn’t have the energy to do much of anything. The poor choices he made concerning his ailment, such as being out in the rain and forgetting his insulin back at the apartment, were finally starting to catch up with him. Kyle was starting to feel sick. Being as stubborn as he is, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was starting to feel really, really sick. So sick that it was starting to affect everyone around him, too.

At dinner time, he always felt the worried eyes of his family burning at the back of his head whenever he had to excuse himself from the table to go cough up phlegm in the sink. The first night he stayed over, when he tried to help unfold the convertible couch bed, Kenny had to catch him from fainting for what was perhaps the billionth time. A few times, Karen had to hold his hair away from his face as he vomited in the toilet. Once or twice, Ike had to purposefully wake Kyle up from his sleep just to make sure he was only shivering from the cold and not having a legitimate seizure.

He became a charity case. And he didn’t even have the energy to dispute it.

Kyle sat with his head clasped between his hands at the living room coffee table, his knee bouncing under the table in agitation. His computer screen rested in front of him, the screen blindingly bright. It was so bright, in fact, that his head was throbbing. He was drastically behind on his college assignments and lessons, and it was nearly driving him insane. The other day, Ike had mentioned something about just dropping out and taking a gap year.

Something about that suggestion made Kyle’s blood boil, and that’s why he found himself in front of his computer at three in the afternoon with Karen at his side to help him. His concussion made it nearly impossible to read the screen. He felt his nasal cavity pounding, his sinuses vibrating with pain. He knew it was unhealthy for him to do his schoolwork right now, but the workaholic, steadfast side of himself wouldn’t let him stop.

“Karen,” Kyle croaked, as his head throbbed, “Can you read over that last passage again for me?”

Karen glanced up from her phone, her hazel eyes laden with hesitation, “Don’t you want to take a break, Kyle? You’ve been working for hours now.”

“No, I want to finish. My assignment’s only taking longer than it should because I’m practically an invalid now,” Kyle grumbled.

“Don’t say that,” Karen sighed, “Will you at least take a break when Kenny and Ike get home from the store?”

Being the resident female of the house, Karen took upon herself the role of the mother figure. She actually sent Kenny and Ike out to run an errand together, like a mom punishing her bickering children, in an attempt to have them resolve their differences. And after only fifteen minutes or arguing and whining, they actually  _ complied _ to her command. Karen was officially the new “mama bear.”

Kenny couldn’t be mama bear anymore– at least not right now, when he was so stressed that he wasn’t acting like himself. Right now, Kenny was probably a racoon, alive by night and always hiding under the guise of a mask, while Ike was most likely a vulture, always staring with an unyielding funereal gaze.

Kyle internally seethed, squeezing his head between his hands. He really wanted to get his work done, but he felt like he was mere seconds away from imploding.

“Actually,” he groaned, “I think I’m going to take a break now.”

Karen grinned, “That’s great, Kyle! Do you want to do something together? Like watch a movie? I could do your makeup if you’d like!”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile as he rolled his eyes, “God, Karen. What is it about your obsession with turning me into a pretty boy? Don’t you have any female friends you can slather face-paint on?”

“Well yeah, I have a lot of friends, but I like spending time with you!” she said, already taking out her makeup bag and spreading her supplies across the table, “Doing someone’s makeup is like demanding them to sit still for half an hour so y’all can talk. It’s not only to make someone pretty, it’s, like, for hot goss, too.”

“Oh, is  _ that _ what it’s about?” Kyle smirked, wholeheartedly endeared. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and it almost made him forget about the blaring pain inside his head, “So you’re going to trap me in place and force me into girl talk?”

“Pretty much!” she smiled innocently.

She made a face as she looked around her makeup supplies, “Hey, do you see my brush anywhere? I can’t seem to find it.”

“It’s right here,” Kyle knocked a pink hairbrush forward on the table.

“No, not that brush. My angled sculpt brush.”

“Um,” Kyle stared at the six or seven makeup brushes in front of him, “Which one is the angled sculpt brush?”

Karen frowned, “None of those. You know what? I probably left it up in my bedroom. I’ll go look for it and be right back, okay?”

“Can’t you just use any one of these?”

“And cross-contaminate the makeup? Ew, I could never,” she rolled her eyes at him like he was an idiot, and then giggled, “I’m gonna go grab it! I don’t know where it is, but I’ll find it. I’ll be back!”

And with that, she dashed up the stairs, her quick-moving feet making little pitter-patters as she moved.

Kyle waited until he heard her bedroom door close to release a breath. While it felt wrong to not complete his work for college, it felt equally wrong to not spend time with Karen, after she devoted so much time and effort to taking care of him when it wasn’t even her responsibility in the first place. She was an absolute angel.

There was a knocking at the front door, breaking Kyle from his thoughts.

He sighed, unprepared to face Ike and Kenny again. He knew all too well how they would disrupt the pleasant afternoon he was going to have with Karen, and that disappointed him more than he would like to admit.

Kyle had to lean on the table to help himself stand (another thing that’s been happening to his body recently), and then he slowly made his way to the front door, letting his fingers run against the wall. He grunted when he opened the front door, “I swear to God if the two of you killed each other while on your errand, I’m going to-”

His voice caught in his throat when he realized who was at the door.

Stan smiled at him like he was worth all seven wonders of the world. He was beaming from ear to ear, his nose red from the cold, his hair dripping with rainwater. He looked way too happy to see Kyle.

“Hey, babe,” Stan said all too sincerely, yearning eagerly beneath the surface.

“Hi, Stan,” Kyle found himself getting nervous, “Why- Why are you here?”

Stan’s face fell, and it made Kyle’s chest tighten. He would never be able to get used to Stan’s heartsick puppy expression, no matter how many times he saw it.

Stan wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing raindrops and sweat, before indicating the black tote bag in his other hand, “I, um, I bought you a gift. I wanted to give it to you.”

“Oh,” Kyle licked his lips, “Um.”

Stan balked, “If that’s okay with you…”

Oh God, Kyle was making himself out to be a jerk all over again. Stan was giving him a  _ gift _ for crying out loud, and Kyle somehow had the audacity to be hesitant about it.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. Sorry, of course,” Kyle blurted out, stepping aside for Stan to pass through. He watched Stan move through Kenny’s house indifferently, like he wasn’t at all concerned to be in the house of the man who practically gave him a death threat last week.

Stan flopped himself down on the sofa, sighing contentedly, sweetly, innocently.

His shoes were getting mud on the couch in obvious streaks. Stan peeked an eye open, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi…”

There was something about his repetition that didn’t sound right.

Stan sat up, stooping down to produce the bag he brought with him. He held it out for Kyle to take, almost baiting him, “Here.”

Something about this was setting off alarm bells in Kyle’s head, but curiosity got the best of him. He took the bag with tentative hands and carefully reached inside to find a candle. It was a large pillar candle, a scented one, probably from a Hallmark gifts shop, and it looked expensive.

“I wanted to make it up to you,” Stan explained, smiling bashfully.

Kyle turned the candle over in his hands, feeling the smooth wax. It was a leisure candle, one that could be left burning during a game of poker or a family dinner.

It wasn’t a shabbat candle, not one of the candles for his Sabbath rituals, not one of the ones that Maple obliterated before his very eyes.

Kyle could feel his jaw vibrate, and he knew his teeth wanted to start chattering again.

But he repressed the urge, biting down on his tongue.

It’s okay. Stan didn’t know any better. Stan didn’t know. He was just trying to help. He only wanted to apologize. He was only trying to show how much he loves Kyle.

“Do you like it?” Stan asked, a little worriedly.

Kyle nodded, holding the candle close to his chest, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“…Um. Are you doing okay, Stan?”

“I’m going to an AA meeting next weekend.”

“Oh,” a spark of hope kindled in Kyle’s gut, “That’s- That’s good, Stan. Good for you. I’m proud of you.”

“Maple is… I also sent Maple to obedience school.”

“Obedience school?” Kyle blinked, straining to remember what that meant.

“So she can get trained,” Stan elaborated gently, “They’ve got good dog trainers there. They’ll help her learn how to sit on command, how to be house-trained, and everything,” he took a breath before adding, “She won’t… you know, chew on things anymore…”

The thoughts in Kyle’s head were processing much slower than normal, “You sent her to obedience school?”

Stan nodded, “That’s okay, right…? I mean, I thought you’d appreciate it…”

Kyle could feel his jaw clench when he recognized the familiar lethargy in Stan’s voice.   
In the midst of his anxiety, he forced himself to reply, “Y-Yes, of course. It’s good she won't chew your things anymore.”

_ “Our _ things.”

Stan stood from the couch, staggering a little. He swayed back and forth as he stood, like he was moving through water. Blundering forward, he wrapped his arms around Kyle’s waist, tenderly pulling him against his chest.

Kyle didn’t struggle. His concussed brain wasn’t working fast enough for him to understand what was going on. He let himself be enveloped in the familiar scent of Stan’s blue coat, feeling Stan’s heartbeat reverberate in the cup of his ear.

“I’m really tryin’ here, Kyle…” Stan muttered.

As soon as he spoke, Kyle could smell the alcohol on his breath, and he nearly gagged. He stepped away from Stan promptly, nearly backing into the wall, “I know you are, but that doesn’t mean you can be here.”

“I j’st wanted to give you a present…”

There was something more, Kyle knew it.

“And I appreciate it. Thank you, really. But a candle isn’t going to convince me to go home with you.”

“But Maple’s in obedience school. She’ll be fine,” Stan was devastated, the stench of beer and lager practically reeking off of him, “She’ll be fine, but I- I’m not fine, babe, baby, I’m not fine, and I won’t be fine until you’re with me again.”

Kyle couldn’t help but pity the sight in front of him, the former high school quarterback slouched and disarrayed, needy beyond all senses of the word. This was his best friend in front of him, the person he had spent his entire childhood alongside. Stan was the person he had planned on marrying, the person to whom he had planned on devoting the rest of his life.

He loved him, but his love for Stan couldn’t possibly hold a candle to his love for Kenny; Kyle realized that now, and the truth of it made him feel so guilty he wanted to die.

“I’m sorry,” Kyle said blankly.

Stan stared at him in confusion, like he had been expecting something more, “You don’t care about me all of a sudden?”

“I care about you more than I’d like to admit,” Kyle felt his eyes welling up with tears, “You know I care about you, but I can’t go home with you.”

Stan’s mouth dropped, “Babe…”

“Actually,” Kyle wrapped his arms around himself, opting to look at the floor, “I can’t even be here with you right now. This- This can’t possibly be healthy for you, Stan. I think you need to go home and take care of yourself first.”

Something went dark in Stan’s eyes. The storm was breaking.

“Kyle, I love you,” he begged, “And you said you love me, so I don’t- I don’t understand why- Why are you doing this to me, Kyle? I’m trying so fucking hard for you right now…”

“And I’m happy for that, Stan, I-”

“-Clearly, you’re not.”

“Stan, I-”

“-Please, I know I can’t change what happened, but we can look past it, can’t we? Please?” Stan was whimpering through his drunken slurs.

“Look past-” Kyle had to place a hand to his forehead, “Stan, you hit me and shoved me into the bookshelf!”

“So? When you hit Kenny, he forgave you right away!”

Kyle blanched. He swore he felt his heart stop beating in his chest.

What the hell? How was he supposed to respond to that?

Stan took a few haphazard steps forward, which made Kyle take one backwards, “God, can you  _ not _ stand so close? You stink like you’ve been drinking!”

Stan grabbed his wrists.

Kyle dropped the candle in surprise, and it broke in two when it hit the floor.

“Stan?” Kyle squeaked, too shocked to care about how high his voice was getting.

“Kyle,  _ please _ come back,” Stan begged, holding his wrists a little too tight, “You know how I am, Kyle, you know I’m not strong! You know how I get when I’m upset and I can’t- I can’t function without you!”

“No!” Kyle tried to tug his wrists back, “Are you kidding me? I won’t even consider it until you start to take care of yourse-”

“-What are you  _ saying? _ Okay, hold on, let me get this straight!” he pulled Kyle’s wrists in closer, “You  _ know _ how bad I get without you around to help me, you  _ know  _ that, and you  _ still _ want to stay away? So you  _ want _ me to get hurt?”

“What? No, Stan, you don’t und-”

“-That’s what it sounds like to me! It sounds like you hate me!” Stan’s eyes were watering, “I don’t understand why! I love you more than anything!”

Kyle didn’t know what hurt more: his wrists being crushed in Stan’s grip or the sight of Stan crying.

“Stan, I-”

“-I love you so much. Please come back.”

“I c-can’t, you don’t-”

“-I love you. Please help me.”

Kyle acted on impulse, and his mouth betrayed him, “I love you, too.”

The pupils of Stan’s eyes dilated, like he was under some kind of trance, when he careened forward and seized Kyle’s mouth in his. Stan kissed him hostilely, aggressively. He kissed him with so much passion that Kyle could feel another wave of vertigo overcome him.

He tried to pull back for a breath of air, gasping like he was about to faint, “Stan, stop it, I don’t-”

When his knees gave out, Kyle thought he was going to collapse. But then he felt Stan sweep him up and carry him to the couch, pressing him down against the cushions. The next thing he knew, Stan was crawling on top of him, kissing with even more belligerence, his superior strength wholly overpowering.

Kyle was paltry and his doddering mind was whirling. His vision was fading in and out. The stench of alcohol was nauseating. He couldn’t feel his limbs; the only things he felt were the couch cushions beneath him and Stan’s solid body pressing down on him from above.

It wasn’t until Kyle felt something hard press against his groin that he realized the severity of what was happening to him.

Panic surging through his bloodstream, he snapped his head away and jerked his shoulder to bump Stan away from him.   
“Stan, you are  _ not _ doing this right now!” he exclaimed, hysteria edging his tone, “After what happened  _ last time?” _

“Ssh, ssh,” Stan murmured, his dark eyes glazed over. He pressed Kyle back down against the couch with ease, and started to kiss him again.

Kyle abruptly turned his face away to save himself, but Stan just started kissing his neck instead. He still held Kyle’s wrists; his athletic grip was unsurpassable no matter how incessantly Kyle tried to wrestle free. Stan dropped lower, continuing to kiss his throat as he began bucking his hips against Kyle’s. The hardness under his jeans was just as bloodcurdling as the alcohol on his breath, and it made Kyle mewl out in horror.

This was severely worse than last time, when Kyle had at least managed to defend himself by clawing at Stan’s face when things became painful.   
This time, there was no possible way he could defend himself, no matter how hard he tried. His wrists were ensnared in an unbreakable grip, his body was trapped under a mammoth weight, and his head was under so much strain that it pulsed and throbbed, drowning out all other sound in its unceasing rhythm.

Oh God, this was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t going to escape this.

He felt strong fingers hastily undo the zipper of his pants, while rough kisses bruised along his throat.

This was happening. This was really happening.

Oh God, what would Kenny think of all of this?

A shrill scream of horror pierced the room, making both Kyle and Stan recoil. Kyle peeked his eyes open, half-expecting to see Kenny holding his rifle pointed forward, but was instead mortified to see Karen standing at the mouth of the living room, her eyes wider than they had ever been.

Oh God, oh no, no no no no no no. Not Karen. Not Karen. No no no no  _ no. _

Karen’s presence made Stan falter, his entire body tensing up. He looked at her like a deer in the headlights, with his knee pressing down into Kyle’s half-exposed groin to keep him in place.

Stan was the living embodiment of a fight or flight predicament. From that awful glint of drunken lust and passion in his eyes, it was evident he wanted to fight, he wanted to push Kyle back down on the sofa and go in for more. But there was something more, too; from the way his shoulders stiffened and the way his hands froze, he made it clear how terrified he was. He was both horrifying and horrified, and Kyle didn’t know if he wanted to run away from him or comfort him.

Luckily he didn’t have to make the decision.

“Out!” Karen screamed, stamping her foot and pointing towards the door.

Stan balked, “Kar, Kar-bear, hold on. Hold on just one-”

“-Out! Get out!” she screeched.

“Hey, now, hold on, we can-”

_ “Out!” _ there were tears in the corners of her infuriated, piercing hazel eyes.

Through his blurred vision, Kyle could see the look on Stan’s face, and he knew it was over. He thought back to the time when they threw Kenny a surprise party, which felt like decades ago, when Stan had made a statement that still stood true to this day: “I can’t say no to you, baby girl.”

Slowly but surely, the weight was lifted off of him, and Kyle started to breathe again. Stan moved with tenuous lethargy, like he was some delicate creature made of glass.

Karen wasn’t having any of it. She stamped her foot again, her outstretched hand pointing to the front door.

Teary-eyed and heartbroken, Stan turned back to Kyle, “Babe, I didn’t realize-… I’m so sor-”

Kyle never would have seen it coming.

Karen slapped Stan across the face. A loud  _ smack _ sound echoed throughout the tense house. Everything stopped moving. Everyone stopped breathing.

Stan slowly raised a hand to his cheek where he was struck, so slowly it was like he was moving through molasses. He blinked a few times, unsteadily wavering, trying to process what just happened to him. He didn’t even look at Kyle one last time before, after what felt like an eternity, he left the McCormick house, his head bowed and his gait drunk and staggering.

The thought occurred that in his intoxicated state, Stan needed help getting home.

Kyle sat up, getting ready to follow him.

But then a pair of arms circled his midsection. Karen was hugging him on the couch, holding him back and squeezing him with all the love her lithe arms could give. Kyle’s face was wet with tears, but they weren’t his own. Karen was sobbing hysterically, her face desperately pressed into the crook of Kyle’s neck as she wept, holding onto him for dear life.

Kyle was so shaken that he couldn’t function. He couldn’t hug Karen back or even acknowledge that she was on his lap and in his arms, he just sat there in a total daze while he was smothered in hugs and panicked gasps.

“I’m so sorry!” Karen shrilled through a sob, “I’m so sorry that happened to you! I d-didn’t get d-down here fast enough! I- Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all? Are you alright? Please be okay!”

Again, Kyle felt a hand on the zipper of his pants. He flinched in fear, before he realized that it was only Karen zipping him back up, protecting him, keeping him safe.

“HaShem,” Kyle muttered in bewilderment, “Karen.”

She hiccupped in response, tears smudging her face with mascara streaks, “Wh-What is it? What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”

“Karen…” Kyle smiled, “Holy shit, you are a  _ badass.” _

She hiccupped again, and then went right back to crying.

“You’re an absolute  _ badass!” _ Kyle praised again, finally mustering the strength to hug her back, “Did you see the  _ look _ on his face? And you didn’t even stutter! Oh my God, I could  _ hear _ it when you hit him! You just drove him right out, holy shit! You’re amazing, Karen!”

For some reason, his praises seemed to only make her sadder. She nestled her face in his shoulder, curling in against his chest as she released her tumult. Kyle let her hold him as tightly as she needed, even if it made it a little hard to breathe, and rubbed circles into her back to soothe her.

When he heard the front door unlock, his heart caught in his throat.

Oh God. Why didn’t they lock the door after he left?

Kyle kept his arms protectively around Karen in preparation, getting ready to fight Stan tooth and nail if he had to; trying to coerce Kyle into coming home was one thing, but hurting Karen was absolutely out of the question.

“Kylie?”

A wave of relief rushed over him.

“Kylie, where are you? Hey, why do I hear cryin’?”

He sighed contentedly, resting his head against Karen’s, “We’re in the living room, Kenny. Is Ike home, too? Or did you argue him to death?”

“No, I’m home. Trust me, I wouldn’t let McCormick even consider killing me. We reached a verdict, actually-” Ike spoke as he and Kenny rounded the corner, finally making it to the living room, “We decided that-”

He cut off when he saw the scene on the couch in front of him, staring with worry.

“Sissy!” Kenny bolted forward, almost knocking her out of Kyle’s arms. He took a handkerchief out of his parka pocket and dabbed it at her blotchy face, “What’s the matter? What’s the matter? Please don’t cry, sis! I’ll take care of it! Whatever it is, I’ll fix it, I promise!”

He was so obsessed with taking care of his little sister that he failed to notice the fresh set of bruises on Kyle’s throat, the redness around his mouth, and the look in his tear-rimmed eyes.

But Ike noticed right away.

“Marsh?” he demanded, his tone crisp and tight.

Kyle gave a sad smile. He didn’t know why he was smiling. He thought he was closer to breaking down than he was to smiling, but here he was: smiling.   
“Yeah. Stan. But don’t worry. Karen warded him off. Isn’t she amazing?”

Ike and Kenny were morbidly uncomfortable.

“Stan came here?” Kenny’s fingers twitched, like he was going to make a fist but stopped himself, “Where did he- Wait, why? What’d he do? Did, oh fuck, Karen, did he do somethin’ to ya? Is that why you’re cryin’ Kar? I swear to God, if he put one hand on you, I’m gonna-”

“-H-He didn’t! He didn’t even t-touch me,” her hand around her brother’s handkerchief went still, “B-But Kyle…”

All eyes turned to him.

“Kyle,” Kenny’s voice broke, “Did Stan hurt ya?”

In slow, sustained movements, Kyle gingerly assisted Karen off of his lap. She was reluctant to leave his side, that was for certain, but the tension surrounding them and the lethargy in Kyle’s motions must have convinced her to do so.

He was taking too long to respond, and Kenny got impatient.

“Kylie, hon,” he urged, “Did Stan hurt you again?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Kenny stared menacingly, “K-”

“-Let me finish,” Kyle said, a little too slowly, “It… It really doesn’t matter, Ken. Because no matter how much he hurts me, I know he’s only hurting himself more.”

Something in the air of the room changed, and the tension dispersed. It felt as though Kyle just said what they were all thinking but refusing to concede, and by saying it out loud forced them into reality.   
None of them were satisfied with the answer.

“Ky, I don’t  _ care _ about him right now…” Kenny begged.

“And I’ve never cared for him,” Ike added, and Karen mumbled something in affirmation.

“I think I need to be stronger,” Kyle didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, he wasn’t thinking at all, just spewing out whatever nonsensical things brushed past his lips, “I don’t know when I stopped being strong, but it happened some time ago, and I can’t go on like this. I need… I need those extra doctors’ tests so I can get better.”   
He turned to Kenny, “Forget what I said on the porch a few days ago, Kenny. You can take that job if you really want to help me. Take it. I won’t stop you.”

The blonde bit his lip. He and Ike shared a private look.

“Actually…” Kenny placed a strong hand on Kyle’s thigh, “I was- Well- Me ‘n Ike were talkin’ over it when we were runnin’ errands, and I’m- I’m gonna decline the roll after all.”

Kyle’s breath hitched, “Oh.”

“Oh, hon, don’t look at me like that,” Kenny got down on his knees, “Hear me out, hear me out, okay? Listen, I got a great reason why, I promise.”   
Kenny looked to Ike and Karen desperately, wordlessly begging for them to stay silent so he could justify his throes. He lingered there at Kyle’s feet, his supportive hand cupping the flesh of Kyle’s thigh. He took one final breath before confessing, “Ky, I jus’ can’t do that, okay? I can’t just get up every morning like everything’s dandy and alright when I play a wife-beating rapist eight shows a week. Like, physically and mentally. That- That would kill me, Ky, I wouldn’t be able to do it.  _ Especially _ after what happened to you, and I ain’t sayin’ that to make you feel bad about yourself, I’m jus’ sayin’ it so you know how much I care about you, alright?”

He didn’t allow Kyle the chance to get a word in, he just pressed on further, getting even closer to his face, “And let’s just  _ say _ I wanna take the job--I don’t, I really, really don’t-- but let’s just  _ pretend _ for a moment that I do. Well, that would mean I’d be stuck in New York all the time. I’d only be able to come home once a week. It’d mean you and Karen would be home all alone, and I just- I can’t do that to y’all. I love you too much for that.”

Distress was practically reeking off of Kyle, and Kenny noticed it. He got a little closer, forced a goofy smile, and said, “Plus, his name’s  _ Stanley. _ Fucking imagine the chances of that.”

Kyle broke into laughter. He couldn’t help himself. It was most likely only nervous laughter, but he knew doubtlessly that part of it was influenced by Kenny’s irresistible rugged charm.

Kenny swooned at Kyle’s laughter, his blue eyes glassy, “You’re so fuckin’ cute.”

“Ow,” Kyle blurted out in between giggles, “My head hurts. Stop making me laugh, it hurts.”

“I can’t help bein’ funny, darlin’,” Kenny’s half-smile morphed into a half-grimace, “So is it, like- Is it okay? That I don’t wanna-”

Kyle pressed their foreheads together, their noses almost brushing.

“It’s more than okay,” Kyle nearly whispered, but then an unsettling thought irked at the back of his mind, “K-Ken? Wait, hold on a second. Ken, how am I going to get those retests now?”

Before Kyle’s mind could even start spiraling into panic-mode, Ike was already at his side to save the day.

“We talked that over as well,” Ike assured, “We’re going to pull Dad out of the retirement home.”

_ “What?” _ Kyle seethed.

“Calm down,” Ike ordered, pressing a hand to his shoulder, “We’re pulling Dad out of the old folks’ home, but we’re not getting rid of him. I’m going to take him back to Canada with me. He and I already talked it over and he seems really excited for a change of pace. We both know Dad’s too smart to be spoon-fed prune pudding by nurses all day.”

Kyle was filled with utter bewilderment, “Ike, you can’t be serious. Do you mean that? Why would you do something like that?”

“To save a few bucks,” Ike said, but they both knew that it was a  _ major _ understatement.

“What- What about your fraternity? You’d have to give that up if you wanted Dad to live with you.”

Ike sighed annoyedly, “As if I actually care about a bunch of testosteronic airheads. Total misogynistic pricks. I’m ready to move on from those assholes. Besides, like you said, I haven’t visited Dad since he started living in the care facility. I think he and I should catch up.”

“Ike… you’d really do that?”

He shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Kyle’s heartbeat was faltering now, it was slowing down, but it was still pounding harshly against the walls of his ribcage.   
“What- What about college? My school, I mean. Am I going to have to drop out and get a job, or-?”

“-We’re leavin’ that one up to you, Kylie,” Kenny smiled, though a sadness lingered in his eyes, “We know how much school means to you. We wouldn’t take your choice away.”

“Tell Kyle the other news,” Ike cut in.

“Already?” Kenny winced, “I mean, I don’t wanna-”

Ike slapped the back of his head, “Tell him the other news, damn it.”

“Jesus, alright!” Kenny rubbed the spot where Ike hit him, “The other day after a show, I maybe sorta kinda spoke about shit with Wendy, and she maybe sorta kinda said that our theatre needs a new financial director, and that she maybe sorta kinda slightly indefinitely absolutely would consider you for the position. Degree or no degree. She knows what you’re capable of.”

The dizziness ended, and the room stopped spinning around Kyle, who sat still in absolute awe.

Ike and Kenny made a plan for him. They were making drastically large choices, choices that could most definitely dictate the rest of their entire lives, but they were making them with nothing but good intent for Kyle and his well-being.

Miraculously, for the first time, that didn’t make Kyle feel guilty. It made him feel loved.

Kyle looked between the three of them, Karen drying her tears, Ike crossing his arms pensively, and Kenny gaping up at him from his knees, and he felt nothing but empowerment. Instead of feeling demeaned by their smothering or annoyed by having to rely on someone other than himself like he normally would, Kyle felt a surge of fortitude. It was almost as if he could quite literally feel his stamina replenishing, his blood thickening, his lungs strengthening, and his mind sharpening.

Tears of joy lining the rims of his eyes, Kyle opened his mouth to pour out words of gratitude, but before he could get a single word out-

There was a noise from outside. They all heard it.

Dread sunk painfully into Kyle’s gut at the thought of Stan returning for round two, and he found himself feeling numb again.

Karen instantly broke into more tears, and Kenny shot up from his seat in a flash.

“That good-for-nothing drunk!” Kenny seethed, zipping up his parka in a haste, already blustering out of the house, “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!”

Ike was quick to agree, “Do. Go take care of him. I’ll watch Karen and Ky-”

“-Like hell you will,” Kyle snapped.

Karen mewled out something in strife and Ike looked like he wanted to retaliate, but Kyle was already moving. Leaving them at the table, Kyle bolted after Kenny with all the newly-replenished strength he could muster. He slipped out of the front door before Kenny slammed it shut, skidding to a halt on the wooden panels of the porch.

Both of them tried to stop moving, but with how fast they were running, neither could manage it in time, and ended up colliding. Kenny was stunned and unprepared, and he was knocked over with Kyle falling after him. They fell to the ground together, Kenny scrambling to shield Kyle in his arms, their limbs knocking against the wood.

When they were flat on the ground, Kyle had to gasp for air.

Kenny was laughing nervously, “Huh. You, uh, did- did you  _ hafta _ run straight into me? I got a feeling you did that on purpose.”

It could have been romantic, but Kyle didn’t want to indulge. He got off of Kenny’s chest, immediately scanning the environment around him.   
“Where the hell is Stan?” he thought out loud, hastily looking everywhere in his line of vision, “What was all that noise he was making?”

Kenny was quick to get up and start looking around, urgently scanning back and forth across the front lawn and sides of the house. He looked again and again, and then the worried expression on his face melted into a smile.   
“Kylie,” he said calmly, “Lookit.”

“Stan?” Kyle squeaked out.

“Nah, I don’t think he’s here. But look, Kyle,” Kenny grinned, descending the porch stairs and stepping out to the front lawn, “It ain’t storming no more. It’s snowing.”

The sky was white and clouded for the first time in weeks, no longer black and pernicious with the forewarning of thunder, but light and airy with the welcoming of snow. Delicate snowflakes floated down, so small and intricate that they seemed to dance across the sky. At first, Kyle flinched, expecting to be assailed by a chill. But he was instantly relieved when the snowflakes melted against his skin instead of freezing him. The snowflakes felt like light kisses on his face, gentle, welcoming, and loving.

Loving.

A gust of snow-flecked wind blew past him, knocking into Kenny’s face. It threw the hood of his parka back, rustling his golden-silver hair, adding youth to his features.

“I don’t think Stan’s out here,” he said again, more gently, “The noise musta been a dog or something.”

“Dogs are awful like that,” Kyle said without malice. God, he was almost laughing. He was almost  _ laughing _ when only a few weeks ago, that dog had taken away the last thing he had of his mother.

Kenny was watching Kyle closely, carefully, like he would shatter into pieces at any moment, “Kyle, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t need to be-”

“-I told you I was gonna protect you, but I wasn’t able to,” Kenny looked like he was holding himself back from crying, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Oh, Kenny,” Kyle’s cheeks warmed with blush, “It’s alright. Karen-”

“-It don’t matter what she-”

“-She takes after you, you know.”

That line finally made Kenny smile. He looked down at his feet, “Damn it. I feel bad for her.”

“Don’t we all?” Kyle smiled, too, “Kenny, it’s okay. You can’t do everything. I’ll be able to defend myself again once I get better. You won’t have to do it for me.”

“That ain’t what I’m upset about, and you know that…”

“… I know.”

“I wanna be able to protect you, Kylie…”

“… Well, good thing you declined the New York role, then.”

“You-” Kenny cleared his throat, “You ain’t angry, are you?”

“I thought you  _ wanted _ me to be angry,” Kyle smirked.

Kenny smirked too, but only for a second. His worried frown reappeared just as quickly, “I mean, you ain’t angry at me, are you? For declining the role?”

“I think… I think you made the right choice, Kenny.”

Another surge of wind and snow blew past them, and Kyle shivered a little. He and Kenny stepped closer to each other for warmth, so close that they were practically touching.

“You sure?” Kenny smiled, his cheeks rosy from the cold, the gap in his teeth on full display.

“Mhm,” Kyle took Kenny’s hands in his, “I wouldn’t want you to go to New York for that long. It isn’t really your style. You know you’re a country boy.”

“Damn right,” Kenny gave a low chuckle, “Plus, I still can’t get over the fact his name is fucking  _ Stanley.” _

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nah, never. I can’t tell if it’s funny or morbidly depressing, or  _ both, _ but I ain’t  _ never _ letting it go.”

Kyle took a breath, feeling Kenny’s fingers in his, “I don’t think I can let him go either,” he confessed, “But goddamn it, I’m going to try.”

Kenny squeezed his hands. Kyle could feel the dry calluses along Kenny’s fingers from his years of larboring for too long under rough working conditions, and he could feel the warmth that his palms had to offer him.

“I ain’t gonna let you do it alone, though,” he insisted not unkindly, “I’m gonna try real hard, too. To get over Stan, to help with your money stuff, and to get through your medical stuff. I mean, it’s a lot. But I’m really gonna try.”

“Don’t try too hard.”

“I’m gonna try as hard as I can.”

“Don’t try too hard,” Kyle repeated, now squeezing Kenny’s larger hands in his, holding his fingers as tightly as he could, “I’m not gonna let you overwork yourself for me. I’m gonna keep you in check, goddamn it. We’ll work together.”

Kenny went still, his eyes wide.

His reaction made Kyle’s breath stutter with worry, “What?”

“You, uh,” Kenny gasped in surprise, “You said ‘gonna.’ Twice. You ain’t never- I don’t think I’ve ever heard you-”

Kyle didn’t hold back as he shot up and pressed his lips to Kenny’s, kissing him with everything he could. This kiss was different from the first time, this one was more intentional, more deliberate, more passionate. They kissed each other for warmth, their breaths coming out in steamy clouds in the frigid air.

When they parted, Kyle couldn’t help but smirk, “I guess you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Always have been,” Kenny winked. His playful expression slowly shifted to a more gentle one, a more somber one, “Ky, whatever ends up happening with… well, you know… Whatever happens, it’s gonna- I mean, I ain’t gonna let-”

“-It’s okay. I know.”

Kenny stalled for a moment, and then his smirk returned, “Of course you know. Fuckin’ braniac.”

He looked around, taking a moment to appreciate the frost-covered grass and the flurries of snow drifting down from the sky.

“Do you wanna go inside before you get sick for the ten billionth time?” he asked, only half-joking.

Kyle swayed their hands back and forth, much like a porch swing in the summertime, “No. A little cold never hurt anybody. The snow’s kinda nice. I think I want to stay out here for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Kenny kept his hands firmly around Kyle’s as they swung rhythmically, sweetly, the rococo swing sweeping back and forth to the tempo of their heartbeat, “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read...
> 
> Hello! Thank you so much for reading! Thanks to all your support, this has become my most successful story ever. I've received the most hits, kudos, and comment threads I ever have before, and honestly I'm so touched. Some users who have commented have been here since the very beginning, thanks to all of you! And I know I've said this a million times already but special thanks to ailurodelrey for the incredible fan-art and support, I love you!
> 
> This was the first romance I have ever written and it probably won't be the last ;)
> 
> (there may be a translation to Spanish in the works... stay tuned for that)
> 
> I've just recently started my next fic, and Stan won't be a jerk in this one, lol! I don't know if anyone's interested at all, but if you are, here is the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652897/chapters/67664410  
> It's still very new in its development, but here's a quick run-down: Set in the modern day, it's a slow Style fic in which (because angsty circumstances I won't spoil) Stan reconnects with Kyle in what seems to be an unsafe environment. Stan is having his canon-typical mental health issues, Kyle is a reclusive hacker, Christophe "the Mole" is making his debut in my writing, and the worldwide pandemic is taking over ;-;  
> (Oh and don't worry, Kenny is definitely in this fic! He plays a major role I promise!)
> 
> Ah goodness. Welp. I guess I have to say goodbye now.
> 
> Thanks for everything! Stay safe out there and drink water!


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